The Following: Peace, Love, and Happiness
by Shaw18
Summary: Begins right after the season 2 finale. This is what I think what happens in season 3. Enjoy! -A new violent threat emerges that forces Ryan to get advice from Joe in prison. Mike and Max's relationship grow, while Mark deals with his brother's death.-
1. Marko Luko

The Following

Season 3

Episode 1:

Marko Luko

Mark stood beside the bed staring at his brother's bloody body with an emotionless expression. He swallowed with uncertainty and closed both of his fists as tightly as he could trying to control his anxiety. On the outside he stood still like a statue, but on the inside he was about to explode. His thoughts were flying a mile a minute.

_He isn't dead. He will wake. I know it. The bullet just grazed him._

The bullet wound on his head, continued to leak out a trail of blood staining the white pillow, while blood from other wounds staining the blanket as well.

_He is just sleeping. He looks so peaceful despite all the blood._

Mark wasn't sure what to do. He began to count under his breath waiting, hoping, and praying that Luke would open his eyes. He would smile at him and then crack a joke to relax him. He would tell him that everything was alright.

Luke was always good at that. Whenever he was having an anxiety attack, his brother was always there to help him relax. His calming smile and authoritative demeanor seemed to help take control of any situation..

Mark thought back to when they were ten years old and playing in the woods behind their large home. Their mother was at an art convention and it was the first time that she left them by themselves.

The weather was cold and rainy and Mark and Luke were playing hide and seek in the woods with fake guns, even though their mother had told them to stay inside. She had rented movies for them and just bought them a new game system. They played video games for a while and watched a movie, but soon Luke grew restless and wanted to play outside.

Mark was counting to twenty, while Luke ran to hide. It took a few moments, but soon Luke found a spot beneath a tree that had fallen over years ago. He peeked through the branches as he watched Mark from the distance. He had his hand covering his mouth to stop himself from making any noises.

Mark finished counting and began to search for Luke, but couldn't find him right away. He looked behind trees for a few moments before he realized that maybe his brother had climbed a tree and was hiding there. He began to search high and low hoping to see him but couldn't find him. He knew that there was no way that he was hiding in the house. He would have seen him leave the woods since he was counting by the entrance.

After a while, his excitement of trying to find his brother turned to extreme worry. Sometimes when they played in the house, he could hear his brother moving around or even laughing. Every once in a while he could hear his breathing. But that was extremely rare. The more they played hide and seek, the better they got at hiding. This was definitely one of those times.

He called out to his brother, but didn't expect him to answer. It would be a silly thing to do so. He didn't hear laughter, breathing or movement of any kind. He had no idea where his brother was hiding.

Luke watched his brother from his hiding spot and could see how worried he was. His brother kept walking in circles calling out to him his voice high and whiny. In the beginning of the search, his brother held his gun high anxiously waiting for him to dart out of hiding, but as the time passed, he lowered the gun and he seemed to have lost the fun.

Luke knew how his brother was and how anxious he could sometimes be, so he decided to end the game. He crawled out of the hiding spot and slowly hid behind another tree. He saw his brother a few feet away walking in the opposite direction. He was so oblivious to Luke, that he didn't hear his brother approach him.

"Got ya," Luke said with a laugh as he pointed the gun at him.

Mark spun around and looked at his brother fearfully. "It sucks out here Luke," He said shaking his head, "It is so much better in the house."

"Don't worry," Luke said with a smile. "This time it is your turn to hide and I will find you."

"No," Mark shook his head. "I don't want to."

"Oh come on," Luke began to beg. "It will be fun. The more you play, the better you will get."

"Let's go inside," Mark anxiously said. He turned toward the house. "Mother will be home soon."

"Don't worry," Luke said taking a step toward his brother. He reached out and gently grasped his elbow. "She will not find out about this."

Mark sighed and then looked his gun. "Fine," He said not really in the mood. "Start counting."

Mark's blinked away the memory and then reached out grasping his brother's cold hand. He held it against his heart for a few moments, before letting go of it. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wet it, and then returned to the bedside.

He sat on the bed and began to wipe the blood of his brother's face.

_He is not dead. He is not. I will clean the blood and he will be fine. I just know it. _

"Oh brother," Mark softly said with hope. "Everything will be okay. I promise you that. I am here for you."

* * *

Ryan walked out of the elevator and took a deep breath as he approached Gina's hospital room. There were two agents posted by the entrance that allowed him to pass. He entered it and was relieved to see her sitting up in bed watching a new report about Joe's arrest. She saw him enter and then smiled at him as he approached the bed.

"Ryan, what a surprise," She said happy to see him.

"Hey," He said eyeing her. She looked well after the injuries she sustained. "How are you feeling?"

Gina chuckled and touched her stomach where she had been stabbed. "I have been better," She said with a small shrug.

"Well you look well," Ryan said.

"I look like crap," She said with an exasperated laugh, "I have been stuck in here for too long and am anxious just to get out." She looked Ryan up and down. "You don't look much better."

"Been pretty busy," Ryan said glancing at the TV. There was a car commercial on with the Muppets promoting the new movie.

"That is true," She said glancing at the TV briefly. "You know I never thanked you."

"Thanked me?" Ryan looked at her confused.

"You saved my life," She said with a smile. "So thank you."

"It comes with the job," Ryan said without thinking. _Oh damn, why didn't I just say thank you._

"You're welcome," She said with a wink. "I also owe you another thanks and more apologies than a person can give in a lifetime."

Ryan stepped closer to the bed. "You do?" He asked confused.

"Ryan," Gina said shifting in her spot. She winced when there was a sudden sharp pain in her gut. "When I first met you, I thought of you as a good for nothing drunk who was constantly in the way. I knew you had become personally attached to the Joe Carroll case and I should have trusted you from the get go."

"It is okay," He simply said.

"No it isn't," She said shaking her head. She swallowed away her guilty feeling. "I guess being on death's row has opened my eyes to many things." She paused and pointed to the TV. "Hell you single-handed caught Joe Carroll for the second time."

"I wasn't the only one," Ryan shook his head. "The FBI really helped. If it weren't for them," He stopped mid-sentence not wanting to continue.

"Listen to me Ryan," Gina seriously said, "You did an amazing thing there. Yes the FBI helped, but it was you who caught that bastard." She paused and touched the bandage on her stomach. "I know it sounds cheesy, but you are a hero here."

"You are right Gina that does sound cheesy," He said with a laugh.

"Oh shut up," Gina joined in his laugh.

"Thank you though," Ryan said with a smile. "It means a lot."

This was a side of her that he hadn't seen before. She was usually so formal and to the point of things. He hardly saw her smile. In fact, he saw her smile more in the last few minutes, then he had ever seen her do so since they had first met.

"Now that he is in prison," She said with a relieved sigh. "I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest."

_With death a new life is born._

"Very poetic," Gina said with a raised eyebrow, "But what doesn't it mean?"

"Huh," Ryan said confused. It took him a few moments to realize he had said that out loud. "Oh sorry," He said embarrassed, "It was something Joe once told me." He paused and sighed loudly, "I know Joe was a nutcase and as misguided as they come, he was right about something."

"How so?" She asked confused.

"Well with Joe behind bars and for a long time I might add," Ryan began, "And with the cults broken up, as well as Lilly in custody, it seems as if this whole thing is over and dead. With death a new life is born."

"You don't look too convinced," She said taking note of his doubt.

"Not when it deals with Joe or Lilly," He said with a sigh. "They themselves may be momentarily out of the picture, but I doubt it will remain that way." He cleared his throat loudly. "There will always be another threat that will either be idolizing them or personally involved with them. Either way, as much as I hate to say this, I doubt this is all over."

"Well I hope you are wrong," She said recognizing the truth behind his words.

"Yeah me too," He said locking eyes with her.

* * *

Mike pulled up to the cemetery entrance and turned off the car. He peered through his window at all the head stones and sighed. The image of Mark slitting his father's throat was still fresh in his mind. He could still hear all the gruesome gurgling sounds his father made, the twisted smile Lily gave the camera when her son slit his throat, and those mocking words she said to him before the camera cut out.

Those grisly images were embedded in his mind constantly fluttering in his brain like a bird trapped in a small room struggling to fly out. He wasn't sure how much longer he could control his emotions anymore. Those images would stay there until the day he died. Shooting Lily did make him feel a bit better and he knew that it would never bring him back. As much as it helped, it did not bring any closure to what occurred. He didn't know if he would feel any closure of any kind.

Now that he was at the cemetery all he could think about was not that his father was at peace, but that he was buried six feet under. It tore him up inside. One second his dad was alive and part of his life, then not even seconds later, he was taken away from him. A piece of his life was now gone and what replaced it was a dark void that threatened to take over at any possible second.

"Hey Mike," Max gently called out to him breaking his thoughts.

"What?" He asked looking at her.

"Are you okay?" She asked looking at him concerned.

"Yes," He said knowing that it was a lie. He smiled at her trying to hide his true feelings. It seemed to him that he was doing that quite often these days.

Max reached out and grasped his hand. "Are you sure?" She asked emotionally.

Mike licked his lips and then cleared his throat. "No I am not," He shook his head. "I want him back."

"I know you do," She said letting go of his hand. She caressed his cheek. "And I know what you are going though."

"It's a bitch isn't it," He said with a depressed chuckle.

"It always is," She gently said. "But you will get through this." She removed a strand of hair that fell on her face. "You are tough."

"Thanks," He said glad that she was here to calm his nerves.

"It's true you know," She said with a smile. "My Uncle has been through some serious crap, especially lately and somehow, he always manages to pull through it." She paused and squeezed his hand affectionately. "You are like him you know."

"That is what Joe told me," He said with a thin smile. "On more than one occasion actually. But I definitely like hearing it from you than him."

Mike looked away from Max and into the cemetery. He sighed not wanting to go in. He wanted to drive away and leave it all behind him. He didn't want to mourn his father's death just yet, rather he wanted to go and find Mark. He wanted to kill him and he wanted to do it now.

"Okay let's go," He said hastily as he turned on the car.

"Not so fast," Max said shaking her head. "We came here for a reason and I am not going to let you leave so fast."

Mike sighed and turned off the engine. He looked at Max and then said, "Fine, let's go in."

Mike removed the keys and stepped out of the car. He glanced at Max quickly, locking eyes with her, before he slowly entered the cemetery with her following closely behind. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he slowly made his way up to his father's burial spot. When he got there, he stared at the stone for a few moments as his eyes welled up. He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't find the right words. Instead, he felt his knees go weak and collapsed to the ground.

Max reached out to him, but he held out his hand halting her.

"Oh dad," He finally said in a shaky voice as the tears poured down his face. He touched the head stone, tracing his father's name. "Oh dad, why did you have to go?"

Mike took a deep breath and then made a fist. He knew that his line of work was dangerous. He parents were constantly asking if he was alright and continuously worried about him. They feared that they would get a call that something had happened to him. He always told them that they had nothing to worry about, but he knew how silly that sounded. There was always a threat looming around when it came to his work.

As dangerous as his job was, he loved it. That was until his father was ruthlessly murdered on camera. Now his pure motive was to avenge the ones involved. It may not be the smartest thing to do, nor the right thing to do, but it was what was needed to be done.

He didn't want to hesitate like Ryan did when it came to Joe. He had the gun aimed at him and he should have pressed the trigger ending all the violence and threats, but he didn't. Instead he allowed Joe to live and rot away in prison. That was unless someone would break him out. It happened once and it could happen again.

Mike wiped the tears away and began to utter a prayer. He wasn't the most religious of men, but he felt it was something that needed to be done. When he finished he leaned close kissing the head stone. He then stood up and turned toward Max who was watching him teary eyed.

"Okay let's go," He simply said.

"Are you sure?" She asked him. "We could stay a little longer if you want."

Mike looked at the stone again as he wiped the tears away. "Nope, I am good," He said taking her hand. "Come on I could use a cup of coffee. You want one?" He looked at her.

"Yes," She said smiling at him, "I could always use a cup.

* * *

Loud metal music blasted in the sound proof room. At the far end of it there was a man unconscious chained from the ceiling, while another man paced around him with a beer in his hand. He took a sip and then belched softly as the chained man groaned.

"Oh goodie," He said cheerfully. "You are awake."

"Huh," The man stammered as he eyed the man in front of him through blurred vision.

"Oh right," He said taking another chug of beer. He pointed to the bloody cut on the man's head. "That looks like it hurt," He took a step toward him. "Did it?"

"Yes," He said in a low voice.

"Good," He said with a smile. He took another step toward him. "The name is Genji, what is yours?"

"Brandon," He said looking around the room.

The sound proof room was brightly lit filled with heavy metal posters covering every inch of the wall. At one of the room was a cluttered desk filled with papers and magazines of all sorts. Next to it was a faded and torn up leather couch that had seen better days. A well-stocked fridge faced the couch and beside that was a bookshelf filled with DVDs and books.

Genji reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather wallet. He opened it and read the ID. "Yep," He said in a mocking tone. "Your name checks out. You are who you say you are." He tossed the wallet aside and drank the rest of the beer. He then tossed the beer aside hearing it shatter as it struck the floor.

"What do you want?" Brandon weakly asked.

"There are many things I want," Genji said in a giddy tone. He spread his arms wide, "Too many things that it would take too long to tell you." He took a step toward Brandon. "But there is one really important thing I need from you."

"And what is that?" Brandon asked looking at him confused.

Genji didn't answer right away. He walked around Brandon as he pulled a switch blade out of his pocket. He flicked it open and stared at the blade as it gleamed brightly in the light like a star in a clear nighttime sky. He traced its handle affectionately almost as if he and the knife had some intimate bond.

"You see," Genji whispered into his ear. "I want sacrifice." He paused and place the blade an inch away from his eye. "And well you will be the lamb."

Brandon cried out as Genji stabbed him in the gut and then sliced to his right and then left. He then leaned close to him feeling the warm blood ooze on to his body. He looked into the man's eyes watching every second as his life slowly drained away from him. When his head went limp, Genji stepped away from the bloody body to inspect his work.

"Thank you Brandon," Genji said with a small bow pleased at what he accomplished so far. There was still one more thing that he needed to do. "You have helped me in more ways than you realize."

Genji folded his knife and then pocketed it. He reached out touching Brandon's wound filling his hand with blood. He sniffed his hand enjoying the coppery smell it had. He then dropped to floor a few feet away and began to write a note in blood. When he finished, he wiped the blood off his hands on to his pants and then approached his backpack. He pulled out a Joe Carroll mask and then put it on Brandon's face. He touched the cut again staining his fingers with blood.

"This is for you Joe," He said drawing the letter 'X' over each of the mask's eyes. "This is for you."

* * *

Hope you enjoyed!

-shaw18


	2. Marko Luko Part 2

The Following: Peace, Love, and Happiness

Season 3

Episode 1:

Marko Luko

Ryan opened his fridge and peered inside. The usually well-stocked fridge was looking empty which meant a trip to the grocery store. Maybe he would call Max and see if she would want to join him.

He eyed the orange juice and poured himself a glass. He took a sip and then sat himself in front of the TV. There was a basketball game on, but he wasn't much of a sports fan. After flipping through the channels, he decided to watch the news. They were discussing Lily Grey and her family.

Within ten minutes his mind had drifted toward the dream he had a few nights ago. Luke's dead and bloody corpse in his bed beside him and Mark standing a few feet away was still fresh in his mind.

Mark's whereabouts were still at large as well as Luke's body. Lily's entire estate had been cleared out and under extreme investigation. It would take a while to go through all that they recovered, but so far they had a lot of names, numbers, addresses as well as multiple hiding places.

There were many places that Mark could be hiding and it would take time to search each one. If he was smart, he would keep moving around to throw people off. But that was a big if. Also as far as he knew, he still lugging Luke around. The whole thought of that was quite disturbing.

He wasn't sure what he found weirder. Was it Lily and her sick family of bandits or Joe and his pathetic way he compared himself to a God. Joe was wanting to be remembered forever and all the carnage he committed, definitely would make him.

Lily, however, her actions were plain and simple. She was just as destructive and sick as Joe was, except for her obsession with him. In the beginning she was extremely infatuated with him, but for some reason that he had no knowledge of, it turned to resentment and revenge.

Her family resembled one similar to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies. She had a close niche, loving, and sadistic family whom didn't hesitate in murdering someone regardless of their intent. It didn't' matter if you were guilty or not, rather if you were a liability of any sort.

Ryan took another sip of orange juice. His thoughts shifted to Claire. He wondered how she was doing and if she was thinking of him. He tried calling her the other night, but it went straight to voicemail. Her last words to him still rang in his ears like an echo. He couldn't believe it. He thought that with Joe now arrested, they would happily be together, but that was not the case.

Losing her once was one of the worst experiences in his life. Now that he lost her again, he didn't know what to do to cope. When he found out that she died, it led his life to spiral down into alcoholism and depression. After a while, he cleaned up his act and began to move on. Despite becoming a clean, sober, and health conscious person, Claire never left his mind.

That was until she knocked on his door. He felt as if his floor had swallowed him whole. She was back in life and wanting revenge. She didn't seem to care if she put her life in danger. All she wanted was Joe to die. She still loved him, he could clearly see that.

But then came the final showdown at the estate. Her strapped to the chair with Joe and him at the table. The twins were _nicely_ offering them their last meal. That was then interrupted by Mike and his niece. They saved the day. Who knew what would have happened if they never showed up? Would he be dead? Joe? Claire?

A knock on the door brought Ryan back to Earth. He saw that the news had ended and an old episode of friends was on instead. He stood up, set his glass on the counter, and then opened his door, to find Carrie standing in the hall with a smile on her face.

"Hey," He said awkwardly looking at her

"Hi there," She said taking a step toward him. "Can I come in?"

"Oh yes," He said moving aside. He caught her scent of vanilla and coconut as she walked past him.

"I was going to call," She said setting her purse and paper bag on the counter. "But I kind of wanted to surprise you."

She turned toward him with a smile. She gave him a quick hug and brief kiss on the lips.

"How are you?" She asked looking up at him happy to see him. He was dressed simply in jeans and a white t-shirt.

"I'm better," He said smiling at her. "A bit sore though."

"Yeah I can tell," She said taking his hands into hers and then giving them a small squeeze. She looked at all his scratches and cuts. "You look pretty banged up."

"It has been a rough trip," He said with relief, "But it is over."

_Almost over. Mark is missing as well as Luke's body and there were still unknowns left to Lily's movement. Also Joe. Yes he is in jail, but there was still his cult and infamous followers that did his bidding. _

"I can't believe it," Carrie said with a shudder. "I am so glad that Joe is behind bars." She paused and gave him a feared look. "When he was at large, I never knew if my next step would be my last."

"Hey, it is over," Ryan said caressing her cheek. "There is nothing left to worry about."

For some reason he didn't believe that. Not when it dealt with Joe or Lily. Both were as merciless as they came.

"That is true, I hope," She said with hope. She gave him another kiss. "I'm thirsty, what have you got to drink?"

"I have some orange juice," He said eyeing his glass on the counter.

Carrie stepped away from Ryan and made her way to the fridge. She peered inside and then sighed. It was extremely empty. All that was in there, was a bottle of orange juice, carton of milk, eggs, and a container of cream cheese.

"Looks like we need to go shopping," Carrie said shaking her head. She stood up and looked at Ryan. "Men are hopeless."

"Can't live with them," He joked without realizing it, "And can't live without them."

Carrie gave him a weird look as she grabbed the orange juice. She poured herself a glass and then refilled his before placing it back in the fridge.

"It is a good thing I brought lunch," She said turning toward her bag.

"Lunch?" He asked looking at her strangely.

"Yeah lunch," She said emptying it on the counter. "Don't tell me you were only going to have that OJ?"

Ryan eyed the glass and shrugged his shoulders trying to hide his embarrassment.

Carrie shook her head. "You are hopeless," She chuckled.

Ryan took a step toward the counter, eyeing what she brought. There were four different containers of Tupperware. There were two different types of chicken, three bean salad, and potato salad. Just looking at the food made him realize how hungry he actually was now. His breakfast so far was only a cup of coffee.

"It looks and smells delicious," He said grabbing two plates and proper utensils. "I didn't know you cooked?"

"I try to," She shrugged, "I am not the best at it. Have me write a thesis or a book and I could do that overnight," She began to laugh, "But cooking, that is something I am sort of new to."

"Do you want to eat in front of the TV?" He asked watching her plate some food. "Or at the table."

"At the table," She said taking a small scoop of potato salad. "I have missed you and I just want to catch up."

"Yeah me too," He said following her to the table. He was happy that she was here.

* * *

Mike stared into the steaming coffee counting under his breath until it was cool enough to drink. Burning hot coffee meant a burned tongue, which ultimately meant not being able to taste anything for a day or so.

He enjoyed his coffee just like anyone else did, but he liked his not too hot. Below boiling was the best. He would slowly sip it until he could drink the rest in one hearty gulp.

Max on the other hand had already drank half of hers and it seemed as if she would order a second cup. She seemed unfazed by the temperature of the coffee or that her tongue was made of steel. She would drink hers in large gulps, while he sipped his.

Max noticed him staring into his coffee lost in thought. "Are you okay?" She asked touching his hand gently. "You haven't touched your coffee."

Mike looked up at her and smiled trying to hide his embarrassment. "It is too hot to drink," He said with a small shrug. "I don't know how you drink it like that. Don't you burn your tongue?"

"I am a coffee fanatic," She said slowly twirling around the mug around in her hands. "Plus I like it boiling hot."

"Did I ever tell you how crazy you are?" He asked continuing to smile at her.

"You know you enjoy it," She teased back.

Mike finally took a sip of his coffee. It was almost cool enough for him to start drinking it. He was about respond to her tease, when he eyed a middle-aged man by the cashier arguing loudly about the kind of coffee he ordered. His face was beat red and it didn't seem to matter what the cashier was trying to tell him, he would ignore her.

Mike shifted in his spot turned toward him. On instinct, he reached for his gun, but didn't pull it out of its holder. The man raised a fist and shook it at her in a threatening manner.

"Damn it," He shouted, "You just don't get it do you?"

"If you would calm down sir," The cashier said trying to hold back tears. "I could make you the correct one."

"How old are you miss?" He asked ignoring her.

"Why does that matter?" She asked eyeing as the manager approached.

"You look like you should be in high school," He snarled, pointing a threatening finger at her "Are you a drop out? I bet you are."

"Mike," Max said seeing his hand on his gun. "Not here."

Mike turned away from the scene and faced Max who shook her head. "See the manager is taking care of it," She said hoping that she was correct.

Mike removed his hand from the gun and glanced at the man again watching him throw his change at the cashier before leaving her. As soon as he was gone, the manager allowed the girl to take a break. He took over her spot, while she left the counter beginning to cry.

"I should trust you more often," He said taking a sip. "I bet I would live longer."

"You should trust me more," She said smiling at him. She couldn't believe how cute he was just simply drinking coffee. All she wanted to do was kiss him again.

"Can I ask you something," He said leaning forward in his chair. He rested both elbows on the table. "Do you believe Ryan made the right decision?"

Max ran her hand through her long hair. She noted that she would have to get a haircut soon. Maybe she would cut it short, almost shoulder length. It would definitely be easier to keep up. On the other hand, she did love how natural her hair was and cutting it, would almost be considered a sin.

"As much as I hate Joe for what he put my uncle through," Max said, "I was glad that he didn't shoot him. Even though it was touch and go there."

"I think he should have killed him," Mike said.

"Are you serious?" Max asked swallowing nervously. Color flashed in his face when he said that.

"A hundred percent," Mike said nodding his head. "If Joe was killed, then that would be one last threat to worry about. Now that he wasn't and is in prison, who says he won't be broken out again."

As much as she hated to hear that, Mike did have a point. With Joe alive, there was a constant threat that a new cult or old followers of his would try to break him out. But however, even if he was dead, there could be fanatics of his that would vow revenge.

"It would have been wrong for Ryan to kill Joe," Max said replaying the tense moment back at the house with Ryan pointing his gun at Joe. She thought he was going to kill him.

"Sometimes doing the wrong thing, for the right reason," Mike pointed out, "Make it the right thing, especially if it deals with a murderous maniac."

"I guess so," Max shrugged. She drank the rest of her coffee.

"If I were in Ryan's place, I would have killed Joe," He said in a tough tone.

Max shook her head. "Mike I know you," She said touching his hand. "You are not a killer."

"How do you know?" He narrowed his eyed at her.

"Because you are not," She pointed out. She squeezed took his hands into hers and squeezed them. "Both you and my uncle have been through a lot, but that doesn't make you a murderer." She paused and lowered her voice, "There is a big difference in killing someone in self-defense and then just plainly killing them."

Mike was about to respond, when his phone rang. It was Jeffery Clark. He answered the phone and felt his world go black for a few moments. He didn't want to believe what he was hearing was true. He made a fist and held back from pounding the table in frustration.

"What is it?" Max asked feeling a ball of dread grow in her stomach. Mike's reactions to the phone call was not a good one.

Mike closed his phone and stood up. "It isn't over," He said annoyed and angry. He lowered his voice so no one could hear him. "There has been a murder, with Joe's cult written all over it."

* * *

One second, Ryan was enjoying his lunch with Carrie and talking about how he was feeling and then next they were in bed. It was when things were getting hot and heavy that he got the dreaded phone call from Jeffery Clark.

Now he stood in front of the mangled body of Brandon Wright. He was hanging by a chain around his throat from the ceiling. His stomach cut open and his guts spilled out in his hands as if they were preventing them from falling on the floor. He was wearing the infamous Joe mask with an 'X' over each of the eyes. There was a note in a language he didn't know on the floor a few feet from the body written in blood.

"What do you think Ryan?" Jeffery said stepping aside as two forensics walked by with bags of evidence.

"I don't know exactly," He shrugged with uncertainty. "It could be part of Joe's cult that we don't know about or part of Lily's movement trying to twist things up."

At that moment Mike and Max walked into the room together. Ryan eyed them curiously noting that they were walking close together.

"Damn," Mike said eyeing the body. "I thought it would be over."

"What can you tell us about this person?" Ryan asked turning toward Jeffery.

"Not much really," He cleared his throat. "His name is Brandon Wright and is eighteen years old. He is a freshman at Baruch College. His parents are Mark and Mary and he has a younger sister in high school. His family lives in Queens." He paused and eyed the bloody body. "He is an A and B student who has a pretty clean record. The only mark on his record is a couple of unpaid parking tickets."

"That's weird," Ryan mumbled.

"What is?" Max asked stepping up to him.

"Well this place is nowhere near Baruch," Ryan noted. "Why is he all the way here?" He stepped up to the body and looked at the cut on the stomach. "These are awfully weird incisions here."

"How so?" Jeffery asked stepping up to Ryan.

"There is only one puncture entry," Ryan pointed out. "Square in the middle of the stomach a few inches below the belly button." He eyed the wound. "Then the victim was sliced to his right and then left with the knife still in his stomach. He was stabbed once and once only."

Are you sure?" Max asked glancing at Ryan curiously and then at the body. She wasn't aware of his knowledge in such detail like that.

"I am pretty sure," Ryan confidently said, "I just want to know what that says." He pointed to the note on the floor.

"It is in Japanese," Jeffery said looking at Ryan. He saw him give a surprised look. "Languages interest me."

"What does it say?" Mike asked.

At that moment Ryan's phone rang. He looked at it and saw it was from an unknown number. "Hello," He said stepping a few feet away.

All he heard was thick and heavy breathing.

"Hello," Ryan said again. A feeling of uncertainty and dread began to grow.

Again all he heard was breathing.

"Who is this?" Ryan asked his curiosity over taking his urge to hang up the phone.

"Hi Ryan," A familiar, yet haunting voice said.

"Who is this?" Ryan asked again. He glanced at everyone who was eyeing him curiously. He turned away from them.

"Do you really need to ask?" The voice asked in a mocking tone, "After all we have been through together?"

Ryan felt the room begin to spin. "Mark?" He asked recognizing the voice. It all came to him crashing into him like a strong wind.

"The one and only," Mark said happily. "I am glad to hear your voice. I have missed you."

"Where are you?" Ryan asked.

Mark began to openly laugh. "Do you think I am that stupid?" He asked, "Do you think I would give out my whereabouts like that? I am a wanted man you know."

"I know," Ryan said.

"For all you know," Mark playfully began, "I could be right across the street, staring right at you like Matt Damon in the Bourne Identity movies."

Ryan uttered a curse and took off running, ignoring his niece who was calling out to him. When he made his way outside he scanned the streets, eyeing a crowd of people outside of the police barricade. He tried to find him in the crowd, but didn't see him.

"If you come out of hiding, we can talk it through," Ryan said trying to play his cards right. "We have unfinished business."

"I am not that stupid Ryan," Mark said his tone changing to anger and resentment, "But I do agree we have unfinished business." He paused for a few moments. "How is that niece of yours doing?"

"Why?" Ryan asked turning toward the house. He saw her standing a few feet away with Mike behind her. They were watching him inquisitively.

"And how is Claire doing?" Mark asked with a smile on his face. "Does it feel good to have her again after all those months without her?"

"Do you know I am tracing this call as we speak," Ryan told him as he was scanning the crowd again. He still didn't see him there.

"I know you are," Mark said coolly, "It is protocol. I am the bad guy and need to be found."

"So tell me where you are and we could end this," Ryan said walking under the yellow caution tape. He scanned the streets but saw nothing except for excited residents.

"I will not," Mark said with a laugh. "Anyways I am calling you because our dinner was rudely interrupted and I am still very hungry." He paused and said in a low threatening tone. "There is still desert and I might add that it is my favorite part of the meal."

With that he hung up. Ryan looked at the number, noting the caller ID was from Los Angeles. He doubted that Mark was all the way there already. He had connections of all sorts, but he didn't think that Mark would leave so quickly.

Ryan called back the number, but it went straight to voice mail and it belonged to a girl named Ashley Welsley. Which meant the phone was stolen and now in the garbage. The only thing he could do was trace and then go on from there.

He turned toward Max and Mike who were approaching him looking concerned. "That was Mark," Ryan simply said.

* * *

Mark eyed Ashley from across the table as he snapped the phone in half. He tossed it in a bucket of drainage cleaner that was on the floor beside the table. On the table were three plates of yellow sponge cake with vanilla frosting. One in front of him, his brother, and Ashley.

"This is nice, isn't it Luke," Mark said happily.

He eyed his brother who was sitting upright in the chair beside him. All the blood had been cleaned up and he was wearing a suit and tie. It didn't even look like he was killed, rather sleeping peacefully.

Mark took a bite and smiled as he chewed. "It is delicious," He said, "Some of the best I have ever had."

Ashley had her wrists and ankles handcuffs to her chair. She had a large strip of duck-tape on her mouth as well. She twisted around in her spot trying to break free, but only hurt herself in the process.

"You said this is from your mom? I really need to get the recipe." Mark said looking at Ashley who muffled a response. He pointed to the cake with his fork. "Oh right, the tape." He stood up and grabbed the tip of it, "You promise me you won't scream."

Mark laughed as he ripped the tape off in a single motion. Ashley spit out a large amount of blood that landed on the front of her shirt and lap.

"Oh right," Mark said returning to his seat. He took another bite of cake. "Without a tongue you can't talk." He began to laugh loudly.

The pain was too much for Ashley to take. She moaned and her world went black. Her head went limp as more blood dripped from her mouth.

"Tsk tsk tsk," Mark looked at her and shook his head disapprovingly, "Some people just don't know how to party."

* * *

Hope you enjoyed! More to come soon!

-Shaw18


	3. Shaphat

The Following:

Peace, Love, and Happiness

Season 3:

Episode 2: Shaphat

There were multiple screens showing the bloody body belonging to Brandon Welsley. Each of the screens were shown from different angles of the room. Some were close up, while others were from the distance. The screen to the farthest, showed the handwritten note in Japanese.

_You have failed Joe. You are dead to me._

Ryan eyed the screens as he thought about the handwritten note. The first note that was left was, _Joe Lives_, but now that he was in prison, it seemed as if his crazy fans were clearly upset.

Jeffery stepped up to him and said, "We now have positives on two sets of recent fingerprints in the room." He paused and looked at the middle screen. "Brandon Welsley and Genji Au."

"What do we know about Genji?" Ryan asked as an image of him appeared on the screens.

Jeffery cleared his throat and looked at the screen that showed Genji in front of a college classroom. He was wearing a Yankees ball cap, black jeans, and a Planet Fitness t-shirt.

"Genji is twenty-six years old and in his second year at NYU. His parents are Han and Keiko Au. Genji was born in Japan, but moved here when he was six years old and lived with his parents up until last year." He paused and looked at Ryan briefly who was staring at the screen. "His record is just the opposite of Brandon's. He had been arrested twice, one for stealing and the other for trespassing."

"Where has he been living since then?" Max asked.

"Unknown," Jeffery said shaking his head. "Best guess is that he has friends and was able to stay off the grid."

"Definitely fits Joe's protégé," Mike observed. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yes he does," Ryan agreed, "But why surface now?" He took a step toward the screens. "Why after all this time?"

"I don't know," Jeffery said, "There is still a lot that we don't know about him."

"What is his parents address?" Ryan asked.

"His parents live on 1553 East 23rd street," One of the computer techs answered. She gave Ryan a pleased look.

He looked at her and nodded in thanks. "I will go and talk to his parents," Ryan said reaching in his pocket for his keys.

"Okay," Jeffery said glancing at Ryan briefly before returning to the screens.

Mike watched Max follow Ryan to his car. He opted to join as well, but instead decided to let the two of them have some time together. Maybe she would tell them about their relationship. That is if the conversation came up. He didn't think Ryan would care. They were all adults and cared about each other. Ever since the case with Joe started, he grew close to Ryan.

Max exited the FBI building and caught up to Ryan who looked back at her and smiled at her. They got into his car. He typed the address in the GPS and then pulled out of the parking lot.

"You know I feel bad," Max said looking at Ryan as he came to red light.

"You do?" He asked glancing at her confused. He pulled at the stubble on his chin. "Why is that?"

"Well I have been preoccupied the past few days and haven't called you," She held back telling him about Mike. She wasn't sure when would be a good time.

"Well to play Devil's advocate," Ryan said with a small shrug, "I haven't called you either, so we are both at fault."

"That may be true," Max said running a hand through her hair. It seemed to glow in the sunlight. "But everyone knows how crappy you are with keeping in touch." She found herself chuckling. "It even takes you a while to answer a text, when it isn't an emergency."

"That is true," Ryan said returning his eyes to the road.

"So how you?" She asked continuing to look at him.

"I am fine," He said with a frown. "Still a bit sore, but getting better."

"Are you sure?" She asked knowing that he was holding something back from him.

She saw him as a man of impeccable strength. His life was not an easy one in the least. It seemed that he was always dealing with something that would normally tear a person apart. She didn't know how he was able to keep his composure. Yes, alcohol played a role in it for a while, but now that he was clean and sober, how did he deal with all the stress?

He lost his mother to leukemia when he was just fourteen. His father, was a cop in Albany who also worked for the NYPD. His father was killed when he tried to stop a robbery and died in his son's hands. After his father died, he tracked down the robber and drugged the guy until he died of an overdose. His brother was a fireman who died on 9/11. His sister Jenny was living under constant guard after she escaped death. They weren't really in contact after she gave up on him during his alcoholic days.

"I'm fine," He reassured her. "How are you?" He looked at her with a smile.

"Pretty good actually, considering the alternative," She said with a nod. "You haven't answered my question though." She could clearly tell that something was on his mind.

"I am fine," He said returning his eyes to the road. "I really am Max."

"What are you going to do about the call from Mark?" She asked watching him merge into traffic as they turned on to the freeway.

"Nothing as of now," Ryan shrugged. He ran a hand through his hair. "When we get back to my house, we can track the number, but I don't think the conversation was long enough to track."

"Plus the call didn't come from a blocked number," Max added, "He is much smarter than that. I would have to guess the phone was stolen."

"True," Ryan agreed.

It took them almost an hour to get to Genji's parents house. They parked beside a public school that was full of kids running around in the courtyard up front. There were two heated basketball games going on as well. The noise from happily playing kids filled the air as well as the occasional curse word.

Ryan approached the house with Max following closely behind. The house was three stories high, painted a sky blue, and a large newly built patio in the front. He stepped up to the front door and rang the buzzer. "Let's hope we get something here," Max said while they waited.

Ryan looked at Max strangely for a few moments. "I agree," He simply said after the moments pause.

"But you know that won't happen," Max said as Ryan rang the bell again. "Nothing seems to come that easy for us."

Ryan sighed and knocked on the door a few times, but there was no answer. He looked at Max as he reached the doorknob. She shook her head, but he ignored her as he tried the door. Of course it was locked. "They are not home," Max stepping away from the door. "So what next?"

"Their car is still in the driveway," Ryan said trying the windows. The last window on the left was unlocked. "Here I go."

"Wait Ryan," Max protested knowing what he was doing was illegal and wrong. She wasn't expecting him to listen though.

Ryan groaned as he entered the house. He unlocked the door for Max. "Let's do this," He said as she made her way inside.

"I don't like this," Max said following Ryan.

"It needs to be done," Ryan said walking through the living room.

There were two large shelves on either side of a massive flat screen TV that was filed with books, DVDs, and magazines. In the middle of the living room was a glass coffee table with a small bouquet of pink roses in the middle. Two leather couches were placed opposite of the TV in an 'L' shape.

Ryan searched the dining room, den, kitchen, and each closet, but found nothing out of the ordinary. He then decided to check the upstairs, but he didn't really find anything either. Genji's parents room was obsessively clean and Genji's bedroom was stripped of all his belongings. The only thing that remained, was an old and faded photo of him when he was five years old. He was playing in a sandbox.

"Something doesn't feel right here," Max said as she eyed the room.

"I tend to agree," Ryan said walking out of the room.

He made his way to the kitchen and then to the basement. The basement door was locked from the inside. He looked at Max who gave him a worried look, before he kicked open the door. As soon as he did so, he heard movement from the basement. He pulled out his gun at the same time Max did so.

Ryan cautiously made his way down the wooden and cracked stairs. He felt that with each step, one of them may crack sending him to the basement floor quicker then he wanted to. But none of them did. They were just old, but not broken.

As soon as Ryan was at the bottom, he was greeted by a scene from a horror movie. There were two people tied from the ceiling with rope by their wrists. Their hands were placed in front of their stomach were holding their guts similar to Brandon's. The both of them were wearing Joe's mask with 'X' marks over the eyes.

Genji was standing on top of a chair in between them. He had rope tied from the ceiling around his neck. He eyed Ryan and Max approaching. "Hello Ryan," He simply said with a tantalizing smile. "This is for Joe," He raised a knife and stabbed himself in the gut. "You failed us. You failed us all." He sliced to the right and then to the left.

"No," Ryan shouted darting toward him.

Genji smiled as he kicked over the chair, tightening the rope around his neck. Ryan caught him, but it was too late. Genji had already given himself small incisions along the throat and when the rope tightened around his neck, it had opened the cuts. His head went limp moments later. A large amount of blood and guts dropped to the floor.

"Damn," Max said grossed out. She turned away from Genji.

Ryan stepped away from the body grim faced. He stared at Genji for a few moments before he turned toward the two bodies and removed the masks. The bodies belonged to Han and Keiko. As he removed them, Han's hands fell to the side of his body, dropping his innards on to the floor with a messy 'mush' sound.

Ryan stepped away from the bodies when he noticed blood on his shirt. He reached for his phone and called Jeffery, telling him about what he found here. Jeffery told him that he would send a team over and that he should wait there until they got there.

Ryan closed his phone and then looked at his shirt again. "I need something new to wear," He said feeling grossed out. His entire shirt was covered in blood and he even felt the wetness from it against his stomach.

Max didn't respond to him, other than giving him a grossed out look.

* * *

Jeffery closed his phone and then placed it in his pocket. He returned to his seat next to Mike and looked at Brandon's parents. "Sorry about that," He said looking at his parents.

"Why would someone want to do that to him?" Mark tearfully asked looking at Jeffery as he took a seat.

"We are trying to find that out," Jeffery gently said. He leaned forward in his chair and placed both arms on the table. "Did you son have any enemies?"

"None that I can think of," Mark shrugged his shoulders.

"Brandon was a quiet teen who was liked by everyone," Mary sadly said. She wiped her nose with a tissue. "There was no reason for anyone to hate him."

"He never did drugs and was against drinking," Mark continued, "he would go to the gym three nights a week with his girlfriend."

"I see," Jeffery said glancing at Mike who shrugged his shoulders.

"You are going to find the guy that did this?" Mark asked.

"Yes we are," Jeffery said holding back the information that Ryan had just told him.

Jeffery knew that telling them the truth would probably be the worst thing possible. They were already distraught as it was and adding such bitter news would be the tip of the iceberg. He wanted to give them hope, even a little bit.

"What was Brandon's girlfriend's name?" Mike said as he cracked his knuckled against his leg.

"Rachel Mason," Mary answered. She began to cry into her hands again.

"I'm sorry that we aren't of more help," Mark said reaching out to his wife. She rested her head on his shoulder and cried onto it.

"It's okay," Jeffery said understanding how they felt. He rubbed the back of his neck that was beginning to feel sore. "You have been very helpful." He closed his small pad and pocketed it.

"Do you mind if we take a look at his room for a few moments?" Mike asked hoping that they would be able to find something.

Mike didn't believe that Brandon was as perfect as they were making him seem. There had to be dirt of some sort that his parents either weren't telling them or were unaware of. No one had such a perfect and clean slate.

"I actually do mind," Mark said looking at Mike apologetically. "This isn't really a good time." He paused and hugged his wife tightly.

"I understand," Jeffery said glancing at Mike briefly in surprise.

"Do you think my son's killer is part of Joe Carroll or Lily Gray's cult?" Mark asked. He began to rub his wife's back affectionately.

"We don't know yet," Jeffery said standing up. "But we will let you know as soon as we find out. Do you mind if I send a squad car to watch your house for anything suspicious?"

"Nope," Mark shook his head, "I know that my wife and I would feel safer."

"Okay then," Jeffery said pushing in his chair. "I will have a car dispatched right away."

Jeffery turned and walked away from table with Mike following closely behind. Mike stopped and turned around. "I am so sorry for your loss," He said to Mark and Mary with feeling.

The loss of his father was at its worse now. He completely understood what they were going through. The loss of a parent was always painful, but to lose a child. That was a parent's worst nightmare.

Mike's family was not a close one. His work in the FBI kept him busy most of the time, especially with the cases dealing with Joe and Lily. But he did manage to call them a few times a week Every Sunday morning, he'd drive in and have breakfast with his parents.

He had three brothers who were living in different parts of the country and for a while hardly spoke to them. They weren't on bad terms by any means, but they were close at all. It was sad, but he felt closer to Ran than he did to his brothers. Especially as of lately.

His father's death though, did one good thing though. It brought his brothers back in the picture. It was silly but they all decided to use the WhatsApp messenger to keep in touch. He didn't use it too often, but he was glad to be able to see their posts.

Mark nodded his head. "Thanks," He said sadly.

Mike left the house and followed Jeffery into his car. As soon as he was seated, Jeffery turned to him and said, "Ryan and Max found Genji." He started the car and pulled away from the house.

"Oh good," Mike said pleased to hear some good news finally.

"Not really," Jeffery shook his head. He looked at Mike whose pleased look immediately faded, "Genji is dead. He killed himself in similar fashion to Brandon."

"Damn it," Mike cursed under his breath. He made a fist and lightly pounded his thigh. "Did they talk to his parent's at all?"

"Nope," Jeffery shook his head again. "They were killed in similar fashion. We are heading there now to meet Ryan and Max."

Mike cursed again as he ran a hand through his hair. He was beyond fed up with this. Yes, it did come with the job. He was an FBI agent who dealt with murders. But it seemed as if there would never be a break. Just one sick murder after another. All dealing with either Joe or Lily. That was unless this was part of something new, but he doubted it. It was most likely from a fan of either Joe or Lily demonstrating their blind and sick obsession for either one of them.

* * *

Mark stared out of his window at the morgue as he approached it. He pulled up in front of the building and shut off his car. He stepped out and knocked on the door. The paint job had seen better days. It was either a dark gray or white, he wasn't sure. The door was thin and chipped at the body. Grass in the front was over grown and covered in dandelions and weeds.

The door opened and a middle aged man, probably mid-forties peered out. "Yes how may I help you?" He asked when he noticed Mark.

Mark studied the man. He was bald, with a small grayish stubble on his chin. He was an inch or two taller than him and well built, despite being a few pounds overweight. He had thick black glasses that didn't match his face at all.

"Yes," Mark said giving him an Oscar fake smile. "I am doing a paper on cremation and I need to interview you someone. I was wondering if I could ask you some questions."

"I know who you are," The man said closing the door.

Mark stuck in his foot blocking the door. He pushed it open and reached for his knife. He quickly and skillfully sliced the man's jugular. The man reached up to his throat choking on his own blood. He gave him a pained look as he fell to his knees and then to the floor in a bloody heap.

Mark watched the body excited. "Now look what you made me do," He said to the man, "I do enjoy killing, but I was really hoping to interview you for the fun of it, even though I am not in college."

Mark closed the door behind him and locked it. He bent down and grabbed the man underneath the shoulders. With a grunt he began to pull, before he realized he had no idea where the over was. He dropped the body carelessly and began to search for it. It took five minutes, but he found it on the other side of the building.

"Actually," Mark said to the man when he returned to his body. "Luke deserves to go first. I care about him and don't give two shits about you."

Mark left the morgue to retrieve his brother from his car. He placed Luke as gently as he could on the car and then carefully pushed him into the morgue. He made his way to the oven and turned on the oven. It would have to get hotter than 1000 degrees.

"Oh Luke," He said sadly. His eyes began to well up as he caressed his brother's pale cheek. "Why you?"

He leaned close and kissed him on the forehead. He hugged his brother tightly and began to cry. He didn't want to cremate his brother, but he knew that he couldn't drag him around wherever he went. It would slow him down. Plus the body was not smelling too pleasant either.

Mark caressed his brother's cheeks and then grabbed his hands. "Everything will be okay," He said to him. He placed his brother's hands on to his cheeks. "I will kill that bitch. I will cause Ryan so much pain, he will regret everything." He paused and closed his eyes pretending his brother wasn't dead and actually standing there in front of him. "Revenge is a dish best served cold." He quoted a Star Trek line.

When they were young, Mark and Luke used to watch Star Trek every night. Mark's favorite series was Next Generation. He felt Patrick Stewart, not only being an amazing and underappreciated actor, was also the best captain. Luke, however, loved Voyager the most and Mark teased him, because he had a crush on Kate Mulgrew.

The both of them would often pretend that Star Trek was real and they would be beamed away to search space for aliens. Their dreams as a kid were definitely too boldly go where no man had gone before. They often pretended that they were on an away mission and would play in the woods pretending it belonged to a hostile alien world.

Mark opened his eyes and kissed him on the forehead again. He picked up his brother and placed him inside a flammable container that was made out of pine. He pushed him as gently as he could into the oven. "Goodbye," He said watching the flames dance around his brother.

Once the door was sealed, the body was subjected to a jet-engine like column of flame, aimed at the torso. The heat ignited the container and began to dry the body. Soft tissues begin to tighten, burn and vaporize from the heat, while the skin began to turn waxy, discolor, blister, and split. The muscles soon began to char, flex, and extend as limbs tightened.

Mark turned away from the oven and pushed the cart back to the front room. He grabbed the man and struggled immensely but soon was able to place him on the cart. He pushed the cart to the main office and carefully sat the man at his desk.

"It is going to be a while until my brother is finished in there," Mark bitterly said, "So I am going to interview you in the end."

Mark took a seat opposite of the man and looked at him. "Mother always told me that when I was using something from someone that didn't belong to me," He said leaning back in his chair. "Wow I like this chair." He touched the soft leather arms. "I am pretty surprised that such a crappy place would have such nice and comfortable chairs."

He paused eyeing the man who was sitting in the upright position. His head was angled to his left and a small stream of blood still oozed out of the wound.

"Anyways," Mark continued, "I must not get distracted here." He paused and crossed his legs. "Mother always told me to be polite to people who I borrow things from and since I am borrowing your oven, I am being polite."

Mark copied his brother's infectious and often terrifying laugh. The more it struck fear in their victim, the better it felt. Finding someone's fear and exploiting it, was an act of dominance. You not only want to control someone, but you want to feel powerful. You do this by weakening someone. Any John Smith can scare someone with a gun or knife, but to strike fear in someone, the best is to build uncertainty and mystery. B becoming impossible to read, you will have someone in your control.

"I didn't get your name," He eyed the tag on his shirt. "Hello there Carlos, my name is Mark." He stood up and shook his hand. "You have a strong grip there sir." Mark copied his brother's laugh again. "Well Carlos, while we wait, why don't you tell me a little about yourself and I then I will tell you about myself."

* * *

Hope you like it!

I have a surprise twist coming up ;) hee hee

shaw18


	4. Shaphat Part 2

The Following:

Peace, Love, and Happiness

Season 3

Episode 2: Shaphat Part 2

Ryan leaned back in his chair and stifled a yawn. He, Mike, and Max were in his apartment doing research. He was feeling sore and over tired. His scratches and cuts still hadn't fully healed. Another cup of coffee wouldn't help him wake him. A long vacation would definitely help him get everything back on track. But he knew that would never happen. Not with his line of work.

There always seemed to be some sort of crime that needed to be solved. Too bad the Hardy Boys was just a fictional book series. Also their lives and the crimes they solved, were nothing compared to what he had to do every day. There were no Joe Carroll's or Lily Gray's in the series. If there had, then it would have to be an adult book series, and not young adult.

When he was young, he read the Hardy Boys religiously. He owned the entire series and new each book by heart. His father joked that if he knew the Bible like he knew the Hardy Boys, he would be the smartest Priest in the world. His sister Jenny was a Nancy Drew fan. She owned every book, but didn't know them like Ryan did of the Hardy Boys.

"Ryan," Max said standing up from her spot. She rubbed her tired eyes. "Want another cup?"

"I actually do," Ryan said looking up from his computer. "Thank you." He smiled at her.

She returned a few moments later with three cups of coffee. She handed one to Ryan, Mike, and took the last one for herself. When she handed her cup to Mike, they locked eyes for a few moments. Both smiled at each other, before returning to their work.

Ray so far has had three cups and was glad to have another. After he stopped drinking, he replaced alcohol with coffee. He was addicted to it and didn't feel too bad. Yes, he got agitated when he didn't' drink his coffee, especially in the morning, but there were no consequences like alcohol did. It wasn't ruining his life or anyone's around him.

Right when he woke up, the first thing he did was brew a large cup of coffee. He would sit in front of the TV slowly drinking his coffee enjoying the aroma, the taste, and obviously the caffeine burst. His two favorite flavors were either hazelnut or French vanilla.

"I have nothing so far," Ryan said with a tired sigh. "I have searched over two hundred forms of suicide, but have found nothing so far."

"Same here," Mike said sniffing the coffee. It was too hot to drink. But the aroma was relaxing. "Nothing I have found so far is useful with the murders so far."

"I did find something pretty grotesque though," Ryan said leaning forward in his chair. "In Ancient China, it was found that they would boil someone alive as a means of execution." He paused and looked at Mike who was watching him curiously. "Imagine that, being led to the big pot while a whole crowd watched from a distance."

"That's disgusting," Max said shaking her head. She took a sip of coffee. "I think I have found something." She turned looked at Mike and then Ryan. "There was an Ancient Japanese form of execution that resulting of disembowelment the guilty party. It was also used as a form of suicide on rare occasions. It is called Seppuku, which is roughly translated as stomach cutting."

"That explains a lot," Mike said taking a sip of coffee. It was still a bit too hot to drink.

"In a way it does," Ryan said with a small shrug. "But what does that have to do with Genji?"

"Well since Genji comes from a Japanese family," Mike pointed out, "Could it be that simple?"

"It could be," Ryan said with another shrug. He took a long drink of coffee. "But why did Genji use such a harsh form of death?"

"Also what was his relationship with Brandon?" Max asked looking up from her laptop, "And why did he kill his parents and then himself?"

Ryan was about to respond, when there was a knock on the door. He sighed and stood up, wondering who could be coming by at this late hour. Perhaps it was Carrie stopping by to say hi. He hoped not. He liked her a lot, but this was not a good time to visit.

He opened the door and was surprised to see Gina by the front door. She smiled at him and simply said, "Hey."

"Hi Gina," He said smiling back at her still surprised. "They let you out?"

"Yeah this morning," Gina said relieved, "So can I come in?"

"Uh yeah," He said stepping aside allowing her to enter.

Gina stepped inside and eyed Ryan as she placed her purse on the floor by the front door. "Am I disturbing you?" She asked.

"Not at all," He said with a small smile.

It was nice to see her moving around. After she was stabbed and with the amount of blood he saw from the wound, he feared that she wouldn't make it. All he thought was, _not another one._ Losing Debra was hard. He looked up to her. She was a motivation for everyone in the FBI. When she died, it was a huge loss for everyone.

When he first met Gina, he knew right away she was good news and bad news. He desperately wanted to find the followers and to find out whether Joe was alive or not. Yet at every turn, she seemed to be in his way. She was a hard-hitting and determined Agent, desperate to find the same thing that he was searching for. He knew that she would get the work done and catch all those involved with Joe, but not quickly enough.

Then came the day when she was stabbed at her old flame's house. When he saw her laying on the floor in the garage, covered in a pool of her own blood, he feared the worst. He didn't want to lose anyone else. He took every death personally. Except for those on Joe's side.

"Ryan," Max said stepping out of the office, "Who was at there?" She saw Gina standing in the living room looking well. "Oh hi Gina," She smiled at her. "It is nice to see you moving around."

"Thanks," Gina said with a smile. "It feels good to be moving around and out of the hospital." She saw Mike exit the office and approach them. "Burning the early midnight oil?" She asked glancing at Ryan.

"Sort of," Ryan said with a small shrug. "Have you watched the news at all?"

"Yeah I have," Gina said shaking her head clearly upset. "Terrible." She was at a loss of words.

"That is one way to put it," Mike said stepping beside Max.

"So I am guessing that you guys are working on the case here now," Gina asked. She glanced at the office. "How can I help you guys?"

"Are you sure?" Max asked looking at worried. "You have been through a lot, are you up to it?"

Gina looked at Max and smiled weakly. "I am on temporary leave of absence," She said with a hint of bitterness. "But I can still be of help to you guys." She paused and nodded her head in the direction of the office. "I am going stir crazy not being able to do anything."

"I understand how you feel," Ryan said with a smile. "Can I get you a coffee while we go over what we know so far?"

"Actually yes," She said her eyes twinkling with excitement.

A few minutes later, they were all in the office, discussing the case. Mike was silent, finally able to drink his coffee. Max had already finished hers and was wanting another cup. Ryan was slowly spinning his mug around and Gina was slowly sipping hers.

"I don't get this," Gina said shaking her head. She ran a hand through her long hair. "Why did Genji kill Brandon in such a disturbing way?"

"We don't get that either," Max said with a shrug.

"The closest thing we have," Ryan said, "Is that Genji came from a Japanese family and was a history buff."

"Why do you think he killed his parents?" Mike asked looking at Max. They locked eyes again, which caused her to smile.

"I'm not sure," Ryan replied with a shrug. He began to play with the stubble on his chin. "The only guess I have, is that when his parents found out about what he had done, they were going to turn him in." He took a sip of coffee. "Of course he was not going to let that go."

"His parents became a liability," Gina shook her head upset, "A son kills his own parents, because of that." She paused staring into her cup of coffee for a brief moment. "It's very sad."

"It is sick the extent of what people will do for Joe," Max grimly said. She sighed and began to push her mug gently from one hand to the next.

Ryan's phone began to vibrate. He saw on the caller ID that it was from Jeffery. "Yes," He said answering the call.

"There has been another murder," Jeffery simply said.

"Oh no," Ryan said annoyed. He ignored the inquisitive looks everyone was giving him.

"Yes," Jeffery continued, "I don't have much on the case, because another Bureau has it." He paused for a few moments breathing heavily into the phone. "I want you, Max, and Mike, since you guys seem to always be together, to go to St. Paul, Minnesota and get as much info on it."

"I see," Ryan said confused. "Why us and why in Minnesota?"

"I can't say much over the phone Ryan," Jeffery said after hesitating for a few seconds. "But you were requested personally and I know you will want people whom you can trust to go there."

"When should we leave?" Ryan asked waving his hand in a silencing manner when Mike began to ask what was going on.

"Right away," Jeffery said before hanging up.

Ryan gently set his phone on the table. "There has been another murder and apparently we need to go to Minnesota to find out what happened," Ryan said before anyone could say anything.

"Minnesota?" Mike asked not sure if he heard correctly.

"Yes, Minnesota, the home of the Twins," Ryan said, "Just not the crazy, sadistic murderous ones, although they do murder in baseball." He paused waiting for everyone to laugh at his joke, but no one did. He cleared his throat.

"The Bureau there couldn't send us the info?" Mike asked confused.

"I don't know," Ran shook his head. He stood up and shrugged his shoulders. "Apparently the murder is connected to me somehow, because I was requested to go there." He chuckled and threw up his hands noting that this was out of his control.

* * *

Joe was tired, hungry, cold, and annoyed. He hated it in prison and that was obvious. The first time was lousy, there was no reason to believe that his second time there would be a vacation. Yet, despite his horrible predicament, he felt strangely blessed.

When had Claire pinned against the wall and the knife against her throat, he knew that she would have to be killed. If he didn't kill her then, then he would be killed, whether by her or by someone else. Killed or be killed. A good motto to live by.

Joe found himself chuckling as he replayed the events prior to his arrest. Ryan popping out of no where to save him from killing Claire. Yes he loved her with all his heart and knew that it would break it to kill her. But there was no way that she could survive. She played her role. She was supposed to have died then, for real.

Then came Ryan. He tackled him to the floor and stopped him from killing the only woman he truly loved. The woman who he would do anything for. _Even kill_.

Ryan had a gun pointed at him and with that same angry and perilous look on his face, as he aimed the gun at him. He was determined to kill him. Shoot and kill him in cold blood. That was his design. But of course, Ryan wasn't strong enough to do so. He lowered the gun and allowed him to go to prison.

"Oh Ryan," Joe found himself laughing loudly, "You god awful predictable pragmatist."

"Joe are you talking to yourself again?" A man in a cell across from him asked. He peeked through the bars.

Joe opened his eyes and sighed. "Go to sleep Frank," He said not in the mood.

"Oh so you weren't just talking in sleep," Frank said watching Joe in the cell across from his. "Because if you were, you were just talking about Ryan Hardy again."

Joe cursed under his breath and stood up. He approached the gate and peered at the overweight, heavily tattooed, trucker like look of a man. "Tell me Frank," He asked in a chilly tone, "What else do I talk about?"

"Just him," Fran shrugged.

"Oh good," He nodded pretending to show interest. "Now what did you say you were in here for?"

"Drugs," Frank simply said.

"Drugs, wow you are one bad ass," Joe said toying with him.

"Don't mock me Joe," He dangerously said.

Joe hated to be threatened. It was one of his pet peeves. Possibly the highest one on the list. Anyone that threatened him, usually ended up on the chopping block. Yet, here behind bars, that would prove to be difficult. But not impossible.

"I am not mocking you," Joe said gently. He pretended that he was talking to a child and not an adult. "I assume you know who I am?"

"I have heard of you yes," Frank said licking his fat lips. "You are a murderer."

"That word is just so cold and none descriptive," Joe said shaking his head. "I am more than just that." He paused for a few moments, trying to find the best words to describe who he was. "Life is a precious thing. God gives us life and that makes us his children. So who not better to end it?" He paused again. "I am Death," He began to raise voice as if in prayer. "I am the decider and I am the one who chooses whether you live or not."

Frank gulped loudly, unsure what to say to him.

"So tell me Frank," Joe asked with a twisted smile. A tint of red excitement flashed in his eyes. "Do you want to live or to die?"

* * *

Mark stood next to the largest tree in the woods. It wasn't the woods by his house, but woods nonetheless. It would be silly for him to go back to his house and to the woods, he and Luke use to play in. There was no doubt that cops were there. He would be recognized and arrested immediately.

The woods that he chose, was a few miles from the morgue that he was so thankful to have found. The nice mortician allowed him to use whatever equipment he needed. Most people weren't so nice to him.

His mother always told him not to trust in strangers. _Strangers are bad Mark. _She used to say all the time, when he was young. _They will take you away from me and hurt you. Never trust in them._ Of course, as a child he listened to her, thinking that everyone outside of the family was ravenous killers, ready to kidnap little kids just to kill them.

Obviously, that was not true. If that was, no one would want to have kids. The world would become a far more dangerous place, then it already is. But she did have a point though. Trusting the wrong person could kill you. Now he was allowing about to scatter the ashes of the person he trusted most of all. His brother. His Luke.

It was still a shock that he was gone. His whole life, from birth they were always together. When Luke cried as a kid, he was there to sooth him. When he cried, Luke was there to help him out. They were always there together. They were inseparable.

"Oh Luke," He miserably said. He opened the jar of ashes. "I miss you so much already brother." He shrugged his shoulders and began to cry again. "I never wanted it to end this way."

Mark turned over the jar as Luke's ashes poured out on to the ground below. The heavy wind carried the ashes away from him, almost as if it were a life on its own. He set the jar on the ground and stared into the distance as if he could still see the ashes.

"I thought we would kill Joe and Ryan," Mark bitterly said, "That we would go with Mother to her beach house away from all of this." He paused and wiped away a tear. "I thought, just like in the Disney movies, that we would live happily ever after, outside of America, outside of their laws and jurisdiction."

"But of course plans never go the way we hope," Mark continued, "I never knew that it would be that bitch to shoot you though." He shrugged his shoulders. "For some reason, I saw myself dying before you. I know Mother always saw you as the stronger and bolder one. She told me I was the soft and good-hearted son of hers."

"I don't really believe her though," Mark said continuing to look into the distance, "Good people do not kill. I have killed. So I am not a good person. I am a killer and since I am a killer there is a few things I want to do."

Mark paused again for a few moments, enjoying the peaceful quiet the desolate woods gave him. All that could be heard, was Mother Nature at her best. The rustling of the wind through the trees. The hordes of birds singing their harmonic praise to each other, just to find a mate.

"I will fix this all," Mark said a bitter smile appearing on his face. "I am going to kill Ryan, Mike, that niece of his, and somehow kill Joe." He closed his eyes sniffing the air around him. "I will kill whoever was involved in destroying our family."

He opened his eyes and grabbed the mini pouch on a necklace that he had filled with a small amount of his brother's ashes. He kissed tenderly. "I love you brother," He said vowing for revenge.

* * *

Flying was perhaps one of Ryan's worst things to do. It was pretty much at the top of the list. He liked to feel in control of things and flying that high definitely was not helping. He had always been that way. He liked to have both his feet firmly planted on the ground, sturdy like a tree.

As much as he didn't want to go, he was insanely curious about what was in Minnesota. It interested him far too much, that it overlapped his anxiety. Plus orders were orders and even though he wasn't fully appointed back into the Bureau. With all the help he has done so far, he very much felt like he was back with them.

He peered at Max, who was fast asleep, with slight jealousy. She didn't really care too much about flying and was out cold as soon as she was seated. Mike was sitting next to her and was sifting through his iPod, but it looked like as if he too would soon be asleep.

Ryan saw that the flight attendant was making her way to him handing out drinks and snacks. They were in first class and everything was for free. Not that it bothered him though. Money wasn't really an issue, even if paying nearly four dollars for a can of coke. Boy, what a market.

When she came to his spot, she smiled at him. "What can I get for you sir?" She politely asked.

Ryan cleared his throat. "What have you got?" He asked.

"Well since you are flying first class," She sweetly said, "Everything is complementary." She paused for a few seconds. "We have orange juice, apple juice, water, coke, seltzer, sprite, diet coke, and alcoholic beverages of your choice."

"Alcohol?" Ryan asked without thinking.

"Yes," She said as her smile widened, "We have three different types of beer, vodka, and scotch. So what can I get for you?"

Ryan took a deep breath and felt his throat dry. The urge to drink was a strong one. Such a temptation. Especially after Luke poured the vodka down his throat forcing him to drink it. He could remember every detail of it, from the taste, to the temperature, and to the warmth it gave him as he swallowed it. Oh how he wanted another drink again.

"Um," He began. "I will have a water."

She handed him a cold cup of water and a napkin. "Thanks," He said taking a sip.

"It is my pleasure," She happily said, "And if there is anything else, just let me know."

For the rest of the flight, Ryan slept on and off. He would look at his phone and see only ten to fifteen minutes had passed every time he woke, from what he thought was a good sleep. Max, was still sleeping, and Mike snoring softly.

After what seemed like ages, the plane finally landed. They picked up their bags from the baggage claim and then rented a car under Ryan's name. On the way, they stopped at Dunkin Donuts and picked up something quick to eat. It took about an hour, but they finally arrived at the address that Jeffery had given to Ryan.

The address belonged to a large warehouse at the edge of a lake. The warehouse stood about four stories in height and had no windows, besides the two above the front door. Five cop cars were parked in the front, with dozens of cops and agents taking notes or guarding for anyone overly curious reporters or civilians.

Ryan parked his car and stepped out. He scanned the scene, wondering what was going to happen next. Max and Mike stood beside him, observing as well.

It didn't take long though. He saw one of the cops tap a dark-skinned man and point in his direction. The man then looked and smiled motioning for two other men to follow him. "Hi there," Ryan introduced himself as the three men approached.

"Hey there," The dark-skinned man said reaching out to shake Ryan's hand, "My name is Jack Crawford." He pointed to a scruffy looking gentleman to his right, "This is Will Graham," He pointed to a well prepped and intelligent looking man to his left, "And this is Hannibal Lector."

* * *

Hope you enjoyed!

More craziness to come! And yes for a Hannibal-Following merger! Yes!

(They should have that in the real shows as well!)

-shaw18


	5. Hannibal

The Following

Peace, Love, and Happiness

Season 3

Episode 3: Hannibal

Ryan let go of Jack's hand and pointed to his niece. "This is Max and this is Mike," He pointed to his right.

"Nice to meet you guys," Jack said turning away from them. "Now, it is time, "He motioned for them to follow him. "It is best if we get this done as quickly as possible."

"I understand," Ryan said following Jack.

They made their way through the police barricade and through the front door ff the warehouse. There were rows of shelves filled with boxes labeled in messy hand written. They ranged from kitchen to bathroom supplies of all sorts.

It was in the back of the warehouse where the body was located. The body was of a young man, probably in the late twenties. He was in the standing position with electrical tape around his waist. There were bungee cords strapped below his shoulders, supporting his own weight. The cords were attached to the ceiling.

The man's eyes were gorged out and missing. There was a light bulb in the sockets replacing where the eyes were supposed to be. The light bulbs were brightly lit as a thin stream of half dried blood slowly leaked down his face.

"Oh god," Max said grossed out and shocked. She had never seen anything like this before.

"It gets even better," Will simply said. He pointed behind the man's skull.

Ryan peered behind his skull and saw there were two holes drilled into the back of the head. Electrical wire attached to the wall entered the back of the skull where the two holes were.

"What is this?" Mike asked confused.

Hannibal took a step toward Mike. "This is a murder," He pointed out.

"I know that," Mike snapped at Hannibal. He gave him a harsh look. "My question is, why the electrical wiring and the light bulbs? What is the killer trying to prove?"

"I am not sure," Jack said with a shrug.

Ryan continued to stare at the body with disturbed curiosity. "Anytime there is a murder, it is of course a terrible thing." He asked, "But what does that have to do with me?"

Jack took a step toward the body. "Brian, show Ryan what you saw," He ordered. He kept his eyes on Ryan.

Brian stepped up to the body and lifted up the man's shirt to show a note cut into his stomach. The note read four words. _Ryan Hardy must die! _

"That is why you were called, "Will said with a small shrug. He swallowed anxiously continuing to eye the body studying it at every angle.

"The name cutting, if you want to call it, was done prior to death," Brian said pointing to the wound with a gloved finger. "After the name was carved it, then came the cerebroectomy, and then the light bulbs."

"Then came the what?" Ryan asked looking at Brian perplexed.

Brian looked at Ryan and found himself chuckling. He worked with Jimmy at the Behavioral Science Unit, determining the cause of deaths of the victims that are brought to him. He had a Medical Degree and often forgot that your average John Doe, didn't understand most medical terminology.

"Look over here," Jimmy said pointing at the head. "You see the six inch stitch mark over there." He stepped closer to the body and touched the stitching with a gloved finger. "The brain was lobotomized through here and then for some reason was stitched up."

"After that, two holes were drilled into the back of the skull where live wiring was pushed through and attached to the light bulbs that are secured in the man's eye sockets," Brian said pointing to the hole in the back of the head.

"Damn," Max cursed. She shook her head disgusted. "That is insane."

"There is one more thing," Jack said handing Ryan a plastic bag with an envelope and a pair of gloves.

Ryan gave Jack an odd look as he put on the gloves. He took the bag and removed the envelope. He opened the letter, taking note of a clearly handwritten note. He began to read it as a feeling of dread and annoyance grew with each passing word.

_"Dear Ryan,_

_ I bear a gift a gift for you. Although it isn't nicely packaged, I do think it will light up a smile on your face. It has been too long since I have last spoken to you and I can honestly say you have not left my mind. You will always have a special place in my heart. The other belongs to Joe. You and Joe are so similar, you could almost be brothers. It is scary to just think about that. Except for the fact that Joe is in prison and you are fighting the good fight. Don't worry though, he won't be trapped there for too long. And you, until death, will always be fighting the good fight. Ryan, I really look forward to the time we could see each other again, but until then, be well and watch your back. We both know how dangerous it is out there. Also, I like the new piece of ass you got in your life. That Miss Cook, she is indeed a feisty one._

_ Love you always, _

_ M"_

Ryan stopped reading and looked at Max who was eyeing him with concern. He replaced the letter in the envelope and then slipped it into the bag. "It seems I have a fan," He said with a strained smile. He handed it back to Jack.

"A fan who knows you on a personal level," Hannibal pointed out. He took a step toward Ryan who looked at him not in the mood to delve into the letter. "Perhaps even on an intimate level."

Ryan was quite aware of the public knowledge with his relationship of the Joe Carroll case. It was headline news. Everyone was talking about it. Colleges were even having students write thesis papers on the psychology of the book, The Gothic Sea, which was written by Joe himself. It was kind of sad how idolized the case was getting.

He had no wish to delve more into his personal life then what was already publicly known. The less they knew, the better. Did people pity his life or did they ignore it, thankful that their life was nothing like his? He didn't know, nor did he really care. All he wanted was to close this case and try to live a normal life. But he knew that would probably never happen. Not with everything that had already occurred.

"Do you have any idea who wrote the note?" Jack asked Ryan. He handed the letter to jimmy who placed it with the rest of the evidence.

"Not at all." Ryan shrugged. He ignored the continuous questioning looks that Max was giving him.

At that moment Will took a step toward the body and closed his eyes. He began to delve into the crime scene as he removed everything that wasn't there when the murder occurred. Everything around him rewound until it came to the moment when the body walked in with the killer. At first he saw a man, all dark and with large deer antlers, walking silently beside the victim. Will caught eyes with the both of them watching from a few feet away.

Soon, he replaced the man with antlers and was walking beside the victim. They made their way to the back of the warehouse, almost like leading a sheep to the altar. When they got there, the man turned to Will and nodded as he lifted up his shirt. Will reached for his hunting knife and eyed the blade as it glistened in the light, looking so sleek and dangerous.

He then began to carve a note into the man's stomach ignoring his painful moans. When he finished, he took a few steps backward to inspect his work. Satisfied, he smiled and said, "Now his will hurt."

"It is my part in the story," He said proudly, but in obvious pain.

"If you say so," Will said with a no care attitude.

Will ignored the man's screams as he cut into his skull. Soon the man stopped screaming and his head went limp as he cut deeper. He sliced large enough to reach in and removed the brain. He set the brain aside and then cut out the eyes.

He then drilled two holes into the back of the skull and pushed wires into each of the holes. The wires were then attached to light bulbs that he had placed in each eye socket. After that, he sewed up the cut on top of the head. Next he took a wet towel and began to clean the blood off of himself as well as the body.

Will opened his eyes and looked at Ryan ho was watching him curiously. "This murder was consensual," He began with a nervous gulp. "Both the killer and the victim knew their part in it. It was not their design, but they definitely added to it."

"How do you know that?" Ryan asked looking confused.

Will turned to Ryan and said, "I am able to see things in a crime scene that most people can't. I have a vivid imagination and am able to recreate the crime almost as if I am getting in the head of the killer."

"Will's extensive knowledge in that department has helped us solve many crimes," Jack said proudly. He looked at Will who didn't seem to want the acknowledgment.

"So what else can you tell us about what happened here?" Max asked looking at Will.

"As I mentioned," Will continued, "These two knew their part in it. They were okay with it. He was okay with it as well as the killer."

"Are you sure?" Mike asked curiously. He couldn't believe that Will seemed to know so much about what happened after studying it for just a few minutes.

"Yes, I am sure," Will said looking at harshly. He didn't like it when people questioned him.

"There is one question I have though," Max said with a gulp. She didn't want to ask it, but knew it was an important one. "Where is the brain and eyes?"

* * *

Jeffery had three open files in front of him. The files belonged to Brandon Welsley, Kenji Au, and Mark. He was currently reviewing Brandon's file trying to find more information about him. There was a cup of tea next to a plate of apple pie that had been untouched so far.

Brandon's file seemed to be one that belonged to an Ivy League student. He was always a straight 'A' student. From elementary school, through high school, and in college. All his teachers boasted of him, quoting none stop about how perfect of a student he was and helpful he was with his peers.

His father, Mark, built and fixed computers for a living as well as other small electronics, but mainly computer. He had had his own office and team that worked around the clock. His basis on his work was that he was there for the people and that is why he was always open. In a world run by electronics, he knew the importance of them and the addiction as well as the annoyance they can be when they break down.

His mother was a psychologist for those suffering with a drug addiction. Since she had a drug problem for many years, she knew the addiction they came with. Now that she was clean for over fifteen years, she devoted her life to those with an addiction.

_He seems too perfect. There has to be something. Something that would tie him up with Genji. _

Jeffery closed the file and then set it aside. He opened Kenji's and began to read it. Born in Osaka, Japan, where he lived there until he was six years old. They moved to Brooklyn and lived have been here since then.

Genji's academic history was nowhere near Brandon's. Until high school, he was an 'A' and 'B' student. But halfway through his freshman year, his grades slipped. He barely graduated with passing grades. Yet, somehow, even with those mediocre grades, he was able to make it into NYU. While there, his grades fluctuated, except for one class that remained a straight 'A'. That was the history of Japanese culture. He was the top of the class in that one.

His father was a Professor who taught Japanese language as well as sold paintings he created. His mother, was a dentist's assistant. Both made a considerable amount of money and were more than well off. They had already a savings account for their son that he had no knowledge of and when they had felt the time was right, would give it to him.

Jeffery closed the file and set it aside. He reached for Mark's and opened it up when his phone rang. He picked it up and answered it with a tired sigh. He glanced at his tea and pie, realizing that he hadn't touched them yet.

"Jeffery," He head a deep voice say, "I am US Marshall Scott Thompson."

"Scott," Jeffery said reaching for his tea that was now room temperature. He took a sip, still enjoying its taste. "How can I help you?"

"Well I hope that I am not interrupting anything," Scott said, "But there is really something that we must discuss."

Jeffery looked closed Mark's file and then took another sip of tea. "Not really," He said with a shrug, "What would you like to discuss?" He began to feel anxious knowing that if Scott was calling him, then it was pretty important.

"I can't discuss it over the phone," Scott said, "I am going to text you an address for security purposes. I know you understand the precautions that are needed to be done."

"A hundred percent sir," Jeffery said standing up.

"I am texting you the address now," Scott simply said. "I will see you soon."

With that Scott ended a phone call. Seconds later came the address that he was talking about. 1 _Gustave L. Levy Pl_. He recognized it as Mount Sinai hospital which was located in Manhattan. He closed his phone and grabbed his wallet, keys, his gun, and a thin coat if he needed it. It took him thirty minutes to get there, but as soon as he was there, he was greeted by Scott and two agent in the lobby.

"What is this?" Jeffery asked shaking Scott's hand.

"Well what I wanted to discuss could not be spoken about over the phone," Scott said motioning for him to follow him to the elevator. "For security reasons." He looked at him. "I know that you are fully aware of that."

Jeffery noticed Scott looking at him. "Yes I do," He said with a nod. "But now that I here, what is it you want to talk about?"

"It is not a what," Scott said as they entered the elevator. He pressed the button for the top floor. "But rather a whom."

Jeffery looked at Scott confused. "I don't get it," He said as the elevator began its ascent.

"You will see," Scott said confusing him even more so.

Jeffery was about to respond, but held back his question. The elevator soon stopped at the top floor and he followed Scott past a handful of Agents standing guard in the hallway. They reached the last room. "The whom I was speaking about is in here," Scott said motioning for Jeffery motioned for him to enter the room.

Jeffery glanced at Scott for a few seconds with uncertainty before entering the room. "Lily," He said shocked at what he was seeing.

"You aren't Ryan," Lily said with a glare. "I asked for Ryan and was told that Ryan would be coming."

"I don't get it," Jeffery said looking back at Scott who stood beside him.

"Ryan couldn't make it," Scott said without a care. "So instead here is Agent Clark."

"I want to talk to Ryan," Lily insisted. She crossed her arms over her chest in a childlike way.

"Ryan is busy," Jeffery said. He took a step toward Lily.

Lily sighed unhappily. She didn't want to talk this guy. The only person she wanted to see, besides her two kids of course, was Ryan. She enjoyed toying with him and now, would pretend to be his friend while she was being cared for here. When the time was right for her to be released and roaming the streets again, she would become his nemesis again.

She looked at Jeffery with a fake smile. "I am not surprised," She said with a small shrug. "I have watched the news." She pointed to the TV that was showing the first Lethal Weapon movie. "Ryan has been pretty busy."

"What did you want to discuss with Ryan?" Jeffery asked not in the mood for this.

Lily's smile widened. "Do you really think I will tell you?" She asked with a laugh. "Oh how delusional you are."

"Of course not," He replied. "But it didn't hurt to ask?"

"You are a smart one," Lily taunted him. "So tell me gent Clark, how are my boys?"

"Your boys," Jeffery began. He glanced at Scott who shrugged as if allowing him to run the show. "Well if you are watching the news, you will know what happened to them."

The color in Lily's face faded immediately. "I don't always trust the news," She said nervously. "But you guys, well I don't trust you either, but those news reporters are such distrustful people." She took a deep breath.

Jeffery usually was not the one to do this, but Lily was an exception. He liked to be professional and to the books, but this time, he would turn the page for a few moments. He took a step toward the bed.

"Luke is dead," Jeffery said provoking her. "He was shot in the head."

"No I don't believe you," Lily shook her head.

"Then don't believe me," He shrugged, "But he is dead and we have Mark in custody." He lowered his voice. "We are torturing your little boy for information."

"I don't believe you,' Lily said through gritted teeth. She balled both her fists tightly. "You are lying."

"I am not," Jeffery shook his head. "I have Mike in charge of dealing with you son and I know how much he wants to try to end the case, so that is why I allowed him to get the information from Mark." He lowered his voice even more. "In whatever means possible."

"You are lying," Lily raised her voice. She began to grow hysterical like the first time she thought Luke had been killed.

"Your boys are dead," Jeffery sang, "D-E-A-D dead."

"Shut up!" She shrieked, "Shut the hell up!" She pounded her fists on the bed crying loudly.

Jeffery stepped away from her bed and turned toward Scott who was watching from a few feet away with curious enjoyment. He too was professional and by the books, but also enjoyed seeing the usually tormentor, now being tormented.

* * *

Ryan, Max, and Mike sat on one side of Hannibal's dining room table waiting for breakfast with Jack and Will sitting across from them. Ryan was drumming his fingers on the table, while Mike and Max glanced at each other every few seconds. Jack and Will watched Ryan with curiosity.

"Is this really necessary?" Ryan asked with a tired sigh. There was far too much work to do be done and eating a lavish breakfast was wasting time.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Jack said with a smile. He was hungry and Hannibal's cooking smelled delicious.

"Ryan doesn't usually eat breakfast," Max said glancing at her uncle. "A cup of coffee of orange juice is his ideal breakfast."

"That is not the smartest thing to do," Hannibal said holding a tray of glass and pitchers. He approached the table and set down the tray. "I agree with Jack," He said looking at Ryan. "It is vital to start the morning off correct and a well-balanced meal is essential."

Ryan watched as Hannibal set six glasses on the table and then the pitchers. There was freshly squeezed grape fruit juice and another filled with freshly squeezed orange juice.

"Ryan do you think you can give me a hand in the kitchen," Hannibal said eyeing Ryan. "The more hands the quicker everyone will get food."

Ryan stood up and followed Hannibal into the kitchen. He saw on the counter was a large plate filled with freshly baked rolls and then there was a large tray covered with a steel pan.

"I must admit," Hannibal said looking at Ryan boyishly. "I asked you here because I wanted to offer my services."

"Your services?" Ryan asked confused.

"Yes," Hannibal said turning on the sink. He began to wash his hands. "I am certain that you are aware that I am a psychiatrist."

"Yes I know," Ryan asked still confused. He eyed the rolls feeling his stomach rumble. He didn't realize how hungry he was now.

"It is my responsibility to aid people who are in the need of help," Hannibal said drying his hands. "Regardless of what they have been through." He paused and took a step toward Ryan. "I know what you have been through is traumatizing enough and it is important to talk about them."

"I'm sorry Hannibal," Ryan interrupted him. He gave him an embarrassed smile. "I am not interested in talking to a psychiatrist."

"I can understand the rep that psychiatrists get," Hannibal said with a thin smile. He picked up the large tray. "But there is nothing wrong about discussing your problems."

"I am flattered Hannibal," Ryan said with a shrug, "But remember I live in New York and you live here. If I was interested, it would be difficult to have sessions."

"That may be true," Hannibal said thoughtfully. "Anyways, I don't want to let the food get cold. Now if you don't mind, can you grab the rolls?"

Hannibal and Ryan brought the food back to the dining room. As soon as Hannibal set the tray on the table, he removed the dish covering the tray revealing an exotic meal. "This is Jajecznica, which is a popular Polish breakfast," He said reaching for a spoon to dish the food out. "Scrambled eggs covered with sliced and seasoned kielbasa to go along with potato pancakes." He scooped some on a plate and handed it to Ryan. "It is an honor to have you guys guests at my table."

Ryan eyed the plate before him surprised at how good it actually looked. The eggs scrambled to perfect and topped with sliced and crispy looking kielbasa. Beside it were three potato pancakes fried to a perfect crisp.

"Thank you," Ryan said watching him dish out a plate to his niece. "It looks and smells delicious."

"Hannibal is a master chef here," Jack pointed out. He smiled proudly at him. "It is almost a tradition here that we all get together and share a meal."

"That sounds nice," Max said as she poured herself some orange juice. She offered it to Ryan who nodded.

Hannibal sat down and took a forkful of eggs. He closed his eyes and sniffed it, enjoying its slightly peppered scent. He took a bite, slowly chewing as he enjoyed its juicy yet crispy texture.

"This is really good," Mike said swallowing his food. He didn't usually eat breakfast either.

"Thank you," Hannibal said opening his eyes. He smiled at Max.

"So tell me," Ryan said. He took a sip of orange juice. It was squeezed to perfection. "What is the next step here?"

"Well there is not much we can do," Jack said with a small shrug. "The body is in the lab and it will take a few hours until we have some information. The other evidence that was found at the scene is also being studied." He took a forkful of eggs. "So as of now, we just wait."

Ryan hated the waiting period. He didn't always have the patience for it. Every minute was essential and could easily be wasted, especially when dealing with Joe or Lily. Time was a valuable thing to waste and once wasted, it could never be replaced.

Max saw the frustration flash in his eyes. She reached out and touched his arm. "Don't worry Ryan," She said soothingly, "We will find who did this."

"What do we know about the victim?" Mike asked looking at Jack.

"We don't know much," Jack said with a small shrug. He took a sip of apple juice. "His name is Clark Saxson."

Ryan knew he heard the name before. It seemed so familiar. He couldn't put his finger on it. Where had he heard it before? He made a fist under the table and closed his eyes trying to rack his brain. He ignored the curious looks and occasional question he got from Mike and Max.

_God the name. So familiar. Clark Saxson. Who was he?_

Suddenly it came to him like rushing water. He groaned and cursed under his breath. "I know who it is," Ryan said opening his eyes. His jaw quivered with fury. "He was one of Joe's first cult members and a younger brother to the infamous Molly."

"Who is this Molly?" Will asked looking at him curiously.

"Molly was an old flame of his," Mike said looking at Ryan who was staring at his plate of food lost in thought. "She was a close friend to Joe as well as one of the first known cult members."

"Her whereabouts are still unknown," Ryan said through gritted teeth.

The memory of seeing her last came to his mind. She stood behind him with his kitchen knife in her hand. She told him passionately that she was the one to kill him and then she stabbed him. Claire came running out of the bathroom and shrieked when she saw him bloody on the floor. He tried to stop her, but Molly came up from behind her, stabbing her through the back. With that she ran out of the room and hasn't been seen since.

"Damn," Jack said in disbelief. He reviewed the case files, but didn't realize how crazy it was. Anyone could be part of the cult and you would never know.

"Yeah," Max said eyeing her uncle concerned. "Outside of Lily Grey and her son Mark, she is one of the most important targets."

* * *

Hope you like it and that it wasn't too slow. Don't worry I have big things coming and some action! Hee hee!

Shaw 18


	6. Hannibal Part 2

The Following:

Peace, Love, and Happiness

Season 3

Episode 3: Hannibal

The body of Clark Saxson laid on the table looking all cleaned up. He was completely naked, aside from a small sheet covering from waist down. The light bulbs were removed as well as the electrical wiring which was attached to the end of them. Both were placed in the evidence room.

Jack stood beside the body with Will on his left. Hannibal peered at it studying it with ravenous curiosity. Brian and Jimmy were opposite of Hannibal waiting eagerly to tell everyone what they had found out. Mike had his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed the body anxiously.

Ryan stood a few feet away watching the body on the table with uncertain eyes. He never thought that he would see Clark outside of the pictures that Molly once showed him in her apartment. He went to her house after she invited them to watch a movie. They had dinner, began the movie and then decided that the bed was far more interesting.

The next morning, she spoke about her family and her crazy brother. Her brother, the drug addict, she told him. From the early age of sixteen he began to buy and sell. By the age of twenty-one when most people were happy to buy their own alcohol, he was a wealthy dealer with people working for him.

Then he met Joe. The man who told him that he didn't need drugs as an outlet. Drugs were just masking up his feelings and that is the wrong way to deal with them. Instead, he told him that sacrifice was the means of controlling them. Soon he became a prominent member of the cult, keeping himself hidden as to not get caught.

When he found out about Joe's death, he wept, but didn't return to drugs. Instead he turned to his new addiction. Sacrifice. He kidnapped a young freshman and removed as much of her skin as he cold before she died. He then put it in a container and placed it by Joe's grave as a gift.

There was no measure of happiness and relief in him, when he found that Joe didn't die and heading a new cult. Word spread fast like wildfire and he was excited hoping that Joe would contact him, but he never did. It seemed as if Joe wanted nothing to do with the old cult and only had eyes on the new one.

Ryan's thoughts on Clark were interrupted when Max approached him. "Are you okay?" She asked concerned.

"I am fine," He said covering his feelings a smile.

"I can see it in your eyes, Max frowned. She reached out and touched his arm. "What's on your mind?"

Ryan could tell how much she cared for him and really wanted to help out. But now was not the place to have a Dr. Phil session. That would have to wait until later and when things had quieted down a bit. Perhaps on the trip back to New York.

"We'll talk later," Ryan said touching her hand briefly before he approached the table. "So what have we got here?"

"Well, all of us already know who this is," Jimmy said clasping his hands together, "But there is one thing that truly peaks my interest here," He paused and glanced at Ryan briefly, "It truly has signs of the Chesapeake Ripper."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Mike asked looking at him.

"Well the bodies that have been brought here," Jimmy began.

Jack raised a hand halting him. He took a step toward Mike and then began, "The Chesapeake Ripper kills in sounders, which can be referred to as a small group of three pigs, if you want to put it that way. That is how he sees his victims, not as people, not as prey, but as pigs."

He paused and eyed the body before him. "Though crime scene photos show that his exact method varies, his victims are killed and mutilated by cutting, sometimes dismembered, and what remains of them is left on display and posed in various theatrical ways."

"One of the most frequent murders was when the Ripper left a victim near a church pew and used his severed tongue as a page marker in a bible he was reading." Will said watching Max's reaction of disgust. "He also removed and took with him certain organs from the victims, which he, unbeknownst to the FBI, consumed." He looked at Jack, who was not paying attention to him.

"And I thought Joe was a sick man," Mike said shaking his head appalled at what he just heard.

"Joe Carroll is not a sick man," Hannibal said looking at Mike who glared at him. "I have read his book and he is incredibly intelligent. Misguided, perhaps, but he is a visionary."

"He is an animal," Mike said continuing to glare at Hannibal. "And I hope he rots in prison."

Max reached out taking his hand. She squeezed it affectionately, trying to calm him while keeping her eyes on Ryan hoping that he wouldn't see.

"Anyways," Jack said looking at Brian and Jimmy. "Tell me more about this man."

"Well we already know that the brain and eyes were removed and haven't been found yet," Brian began. "Aside from that and the note cut into him, there was nothing out of the ordinary about him. He died from getting his head sliced open." He paused allowing Jimmy to continue.

"With the brain gone, that leaves room in the skull," Jimmy said pointing to the cut on the top of the head that had sew removed. He opened it and reached in the head. "We found this." He held up a long and bloodied hair.

Jimmy made his way to the sink and began to wash the blood if the hair. The hair was red and shined in the rooms light. "Crazy isn't it," He said with a shrug. "Never a dull moment here."

"Wait," Max asked confused, "Are you saying that someone could have possibly eaten this man's brain and eyes?" She felt grossed out and wanted to throw up. "And then left a hair behind as what a prize or something?"

"Perhaps," Hannibal said stepping up to the body. He continued to stare at the body with a hunger that only he could see. "That would definitely coincide with the rest of the Chesapeake Ripper's murders." He paused and glanced at Max. "Except for the note and letter to Ryan."

"I don't think this is the work of the Chesapeake Ripper," Will said shaking his head. He eyed Hannibal briefly. "All of his kills never mentioned Ryan or Joe at all. Why bring them in now?" He took a deep breath and stepped away from Jack. "This isn't the copycat either. This is someone new. Someone with the letter 'M' in their name."

"What if the Chesapeake Ripper was a fan of Joe's?" Jack asked looking at Ryan who seemed lost in thought.

"Could be," Mike shrugged, "We don't know who is and is not part of Joe's cult until it is far too late sometimes."

"It won't take long," Brian said as Jimmy headed to get the DNA tested. "But we will find out whose hair this belonged to."

"Don't bother," Ryan grimly, "I already have an idea." He looked at Jack with his jaw quivering angrily. "The hair belongs to Molly Saxson."

"Are you saying that Molly killed her younger brother?" Jack asked slightly confused.

"I am certain of it," Ryan answered, hoping that he was indeed wrong. He knew he wasn't though.

* * *

Jeffery stepped out of the hospital room with a smile of victory planted on his face. The feeling of control was something as of lately that he was not accustomed to. Not when it dealt with Lily Gray and he disturbed family of killers. By now most of her family was either dead or arrested, aside from Mark. She was under heavy guard in the hospital. She was not moving anywhere, anytime soon. It certainly looked as if she had just about lost everything.

Lily saw her family as the close and loving type. Something you would see on the front of a woman's magazine. But he didn't feel that way. He saw her family similar to those is the horror movies who claimed their family was structured on love, but in reality were murderous addicts that simply killed for the enjoyment of it.

She claimed that she only killed when necessary and didn't really enjoy it. She claimed that she was caring, loving, and respectful to everyone, but that was a lie. She liked to kill and enjoyed every moment of it. Just like Joe Carroll did. Both were killers who seemed to get a sexual thrill from murder.

"_Did you know that one of the many traits of a psychopath is to mirror another's behavior?"_

The wise words of Dr. Strauss came to his mind. Despite for being the sadistic killer who started it all by teaching Joe and pushing him to become the psychopath he was now, he was somewhat of a genius. Those words couldn't have been more truthful. One psychopath always seemed to be influenced by another. It was like some genetic code.

He thought back to his last conversation with him. He was trying to get information about Joe and his current location was extremely difficult. Most of what he got from the guy was nonsense and gibberish. But the line about psychopaths was one of the few things that he mentioned which stuck to him.

When Joe was arrested, he returned and spoke to Dr. Strauss, but other than a twisted smile, he nothing from him. Before he left thought, he told him that both he and Joe would be locked away until they rotted and it would be in their best interest if he'd cooperate. Again, he got nothing more than an 'I don't care smile.'

Jeffery heard his cell ring, which brought him back to his sense. "Hello," He said glancing at Scott who was watching him curiously.

"Agent Clark," He heard Agent Desmond say, "Mark has been located."

Jeffery felt the room grow small and his heart do a complete flip. "For real?" He asked excited. "Where?"

"He was seen minutes ago by a Ranger in the woods off of Interstate 27," Desmond said anxiously. "I can have a team there and ready in about fifteen minutes."

"Get the team there," Jeffery ordered, 'But don't do anything until I get there."

"Are you sure?" Desmond asked confused, "We might not get a chance again."

"Get the team there and create a perimeter," Jeffery ordered, "Make sure he doesn't leave the areas. But do not do anything else until I get there."

"Yes sir."

"What happened?" Scott asked, watching him close his phone.

"Mark has been sighted," He said with a smile. Time to catch a fish."

Jeffery was glad that he was able to get a hold of the hospital's emergency helicopter pilot, to take him just outside of the woods. He quickly made his way to Desmond, where he found him outside of the woods.

"You got here quicker than I thought," He said glancing at Jeffery.

"What is the status?" He asked glancing at the team of ten well-armed standing ready.

"We have the perimeter around the woods by three different teams," Desmond anxiously said, "There is a small cabin just a mile into the woods and that is where we believe Mark is now."

"Awesome," He said please. "Arrest him only. I want him alive." He pulled out his gun and switched off the safety mode. "Let's get this bastard."

Jeffery led the team into the wood, while the other teams did the same. They silently and cautiously made their way to the cabin, not seeing any sign of him. It took fifteen minutes, but they soon had the cabin surrounded.

Jeffery took a deep breath and held up his hand halting the teams. "No one move unless I say so," He ordered. He continued to scan the cabin for anything out of the ordinary.

"Desmond, Cruz," He pointed to the. "You with me." He took a step toward the cabin. "The rest of you wait here. We are going to drive him out."

"Yes sir," One of the guys responded.

"Okay let's move," Jeffery said.

Jeffery saw that the windows were covered in so much dust, noting that since he couldn't see in, he doubted anyone could see out. He approached the front door and tried the handle. Not to his surprise, it was unlocked. As quietly as he could, he opened the door which to his annoyance creaked loudly as it opened.

He entered the cabin scanning the small living room. Everything was covered in dust, dirt, and spider webs. There was a large couch along one of the walls opposite to a fire place. An old TV with a cable box and antenna stood a few feet away from the fireplace. There was a large and nearly empty bookshelf that had two books and a couple of statues on it.

The kitchen was empty as well, only with a fridge that had a moldy food and jars in it. Both closets were completely empty as well. There was nothing in the bathroom except for an awful smell. All that remained was the bedroom at the far end of the hall.

Jeffery held his breath and stepped up to the door. He raised his gun and kicked the door open. He saw a body in the bed, hidden underneath the covers. There was a bad smell in the room of mold, sweat, and urine.

Jeffery motioned for Desmond and Cruz to cover him. He approached the bed and kicked the bed lightly trying to get the attention of whoever was in the bed. There was no movement of any kind. He then tapped the body with his gun, but just like before there was no response.

He glanced at Desmond and Cruz who stood with their weapons ready. Both were ready to kill whoever was hiding on the bed. He turned back to the bed and then threw off the covers. There was a bloody body belonging to a middle aged man. His throat was slit and he had multiple stab wounds in his large gut.

"Damn," Jeffery cursed.

"This blood is fresh," Desmond noted. He stepped up to the bed. "I would say no less than ten hours ago."

Jeffery ran a hand through his hair. "So what next?" He asked annoyed. He hoped he didn't come here for nothing.

"If I may," Cruz said stepping up to Jeffery. "There may be a hidden room here. We should check the closets again."

Jeffery looked at Desmond who nodded in agreement. "It doesn't hurt to try," He said following Cruz to the closest closet.

Cruz stepped in and tapped the walls but they were all solid. This one was empty. He made his way to the next one, just as the door swung open and out ran Mark with a surprised look on his face. Cruz punched him in the face hard knocking him to the ground. He pointed his gun at him.

"Don't shoot him," Jeffery ordered as he approached.

"I wasn't planning to," Cruz said suddenly aiming his gun at Desmond. He shot him in the head, blood squirting out of the wound. He pointed it at Jeffery. "Drop you weapon."

"What the hell?" Jeffery cursed.

"Ouch," Mark said standing up. He wiped blood off his throbbing lip.

Cruz spoke into his walkie-talkie. "We have Mark," He said keeping his gun and eyes on Jeffery. "Execute now."

"Good," He heard.

"You won't get away with this," Jeffery said glaring at him. He began to lower his gun on the floor.

"Actually I might," He said confidently. "Right now my team of guys is going around and killing whatever agents you had brought here." He took a step toward Jeffery. "Most of the guys out there were under me, not you or Desmond." He motioned for Jeffery to kick the gun his way.

Mark took Jeffery's gun and then aimed it at him. His jaw quivered with excitement as the feeling of control began to grow in him. He loved the feeling. Death was at his fingertips.

"I would say that it has been an honor serving with you," Cruz shrugged, "But I was never really on your team."

"You bastard," He cursed.

"Being that I don't know my dad," Cruz began to laugh, "You are correct there." He took another step toward Jeffery. "Goodbye."

Jeffery reached out toward Cruz, just as he shot him twice in the stomach. He felt an enormous amount of pain and then the room began to spin. He saw Cruz and Mark through blurred vision as he fell to his knees. He tried to call out, but instead the room grew dark as he fell to the floor.

Cruz turned to Mark and then placed a hand on his shoulder. Mark pushed it away suddenly and stepped away from him. "Who are you?" He asked pointing the gun at him.

"I am a friend an on your side," He said calmly.

"A friend of my mom's?" He asked confused that he had never seen him before.

"Nope," Cruz shook his head, "Your dad's."

* * *

Ryan was back in the warehouse, staring intently at the space where Clark's body used to be. Any item that was considered part of the brutal murder was removed and taken into evidence. Now it stood completely empty aside from what was originally there.

He had many questions on his mind. Why did Moly kill Clark? Why here? Why now after all this time? Where had they been hiding? All to which he had no answers to. Just like with all other Joe's cult, there was a mystery and it bothered him. He wanted it over. All of it to be finished, so he could move on and live free.

But he doubted that would happen. He knew tlhat somewhere in the future, it would all end but would he be free? After everything that he had seen? After everything that had been done so far? That would be doubtful. There would be no amount of therapy that could help that.

He would always be looking over his shoulders, expecting that one of the members would be there following him. He didn't think he could trust anyone outside of the few closest to him. He could almost count the amount on one hand.

Yet with all these uncertainties, he just wanted it to end. He would rather become the scarred person he was now and more, then deal with all this senseless killing. At least with it over he can move on and try to live a life, even one filled with such trauma. The question was when?

Max reached out to him and touched his shoulder gently. He looked at her and smiled. "There is nothing here Ryan," She said softly, "We should go back to the hotel, get some sleep, and wait while the evidence is studied."

"You can go if you want," Ryan said turning to face her. "I doubt I will find anything here, but it doesn't hurt to try and look."

Max looked at Mike who stood a few feet away. She didn't want to leave Ryan here alone. "We are in this together," Mike said taking a step toward him. "We are a team and as the crappy line goes, there is no I in team."

"That is true," Ryan chuckled softly. "No more secrets." He took a step toward Mike. "This seems to be as good time as any Mike."

"A good time for what?" He looked at him confused.

"I wanted to apologize about what happened after Joe's death with you and I,"" He said taking another step toward him. "I was a train wreck and you always looked out for me."

"Don't worry about it man," He said with a smile.

This was a side of Ryan he didn't see too often. Ryan usually kept everything to himself. He took it all personally and because of everything that he went through so far, he refused to share things with the people around him for the fear of losing them.

"And then after that," Ryan continued, "I began my search for Joe and despite your good intentions, I turned you down. You and I are more than just friends." He paused trying to find the right set of words. "I almost feel as if you are part of my family." He reached out and grasped his shoulder gently.

Mike felt himself blush. "Well thank you," He said with a smile. Maybe he could tell Ryan about Max and him. "Ryan, there is something I need to tell you as well," He glanced at Max who nodded in agreement.

Just then a loud gunshot was heard. Ryan heard a scream as he felt blood splatter all over his face and shirt. He saw Mike fall to the floor grasping his throat as blood leaked through his hands. He gurgled loudly choking on his own blood. Max shrieked again and dove at Mike applying pressure on his wound.

Ryan eyed Mike worried for his life as he reached for his gun. He then turned and saw a man he didn't recognize dart behind a large shelf. He took a step forward and fired at the shelf, missing the guy. The guy fired back, missing him as Ryan dove behind another shelf.

Max reached out with a bloody hand and grabbed her cell. She called 911, keeping a fearful eye on Max, who looked at her painfully. His face was pale and he was shaking uncontrollably. "No," She said beginning to cry, "Do not die on me Mike." She tossed her phone aside and then tour off her sweater. She began to apply even more pressure. "Please Mike," She pleaded, "Stay alive."

Ryan cursed when he saw another man dart behind another shelf. Two against one now. Max was busy with Mike. He raised his gun and fired at the first man, missing again. "Damn," He cursed as bullets shot in his direction.

He saw one of the men try to approach Max and in the process, gave himself an opening. Ryan used that and shot him in the shoulder. The man fell to the floor grasping the wound painfully. The second man was now nowhere to be seen. Ryan cursed again not in the mood.

He took a step away from the shelf and was greeted by a swift kick in the gut. It sent him to the floor as he lost his gun. The man swung trying to his him in the face, but he blocked it and hit him in the gut. He ignored the pain and stood on shaky legs. The man began to laugh as he pulled out a large and dangerous looking knife.

Ryan blocked a stab and then another one which not only surprised him, but also Ryan himself. He was just moving on instinct, trying not to get stabbed. The man swung again and the blade cut him across the forearm. He gasped and saw blood immediately drip out of the wound.

The man smiled, ready to stab him again, but Ryan was faster. He dove toward his fallen gun and grasped it. He pointed it at the man and shot him in the head. Blood squirted out of the wound as the man fell to the floor.

Loud clapping was heard while Ryan caught his breath. He turned to see Molly walk toward him seductively with a tantalizing smile on her face. "Hello Ryan," She said as he pointed his gun at her. "Oh I wouldn't do that would you?"

Ryan noticed six well-armed men standing behind her looking angry and dangerous. All had guns pointed at him. "I could still kill you," He said as he stood on shaky legs.

"You would be killed," She said approaching him. "Plus if you couldn't kill Joe, I doubt you will kill me." She stopped about a foot in front of him. "Now toss your gun aside."

Ryan shook his head not wanting to, but knew it was the right thing to do. As much as he hated to do so, which would leave him defenseless, he knew that she would kill him without any hesitation at all.

Molly looked at Max who had her hands on Mike's bloody throat. "Pity," She said without any care.

"What do you want Molly?" Ryan asked. He heard sirens in the distance which meant that help was minutes away.

"Soon you will find out," She said reaching out and caressed his cheek. He pushed her away, which caused her to laugh. "I have a lot planned for you Ryan Hardy and it is all for you." She took a few steps backward and then bowed. "I must leave before your friends come here." She stood up straight and looked him dead in the eye with the most serious and disgusted look she could give him. "I'm back."

With that she motioned for one of her men toward Ryan. With a smile, a large and tattooed man approached him with his lip curled. He swung the butt of his gun, striking him in the head. "No," Max shouted as Ryan fell to the unconscious. She watched in horror as Molly and her group of men left the warehouse.

* * *

Hope you like it! Sorry the updates have been slower. I have final exams coming up. Anyhow I will try to update as soon as could.

Shaw18


	7. Daddy Issues

The Following:

Peace, Love, and Happiness

Season 3:

Episode 4

Daddy Issues

_Ryan was ten years old when his father took him to the beach for the first time. It was a sunny Memorial Day with a temperature almost in the mid-eighties. The beach was crowded, so it took a few minutes to find a spot. They managed to find a place by the edge of Coney Island, it was far from the Cyclone, which he really wanted to go to, but his father said he as too young for it. He did promise though that when he was older, he would take him._

_ His father spread out a large sheet, while his mother unpacked their lunch from a large ice chest. They had brought ham and cheese sandwiches, potato salad, coleslaw, and for dessert, pieces of watermelon. She handed Ryan plates, forks, and napkins to set up, while she dished out the food. _

_ Soon, the three of them were sitting and eating hungrily in silence. Ryan watched a heated volleyball game a few yards away. He really wanted to join. It looked like so much fun. Obviously he knew that would never happen. He was too young. They looked like they were in college._

_ He turned to his dad, who was spooning more coleslaw on his empty plate. "Where is Jenny?" He asked in between bites._

_ "She is at the movies with friends, remember," His father said looking at him. "So for now, it is just the three of us."_

_ Ryan smiled at his father and then turned back to the volley ball game. The ball bounced near him and he wanted to throw it back to them, but before he had a chance to move, one of the players retrieved the ball. The game continued and he was only able to watch._

_ But that soon changed when his father told him he was allowed to go into the waters. Excited, he ran there smiling. He walked in and once the water was to his knees, he began to swim laughing and splashing. His parents watched from their spot, making sure he was okay._

_ The waves weren't too large from where he was swimming. He saw a football floating a bit away and decide to swim to it. He heard his father calling his name, but he ignored him. If he retrieved the football, maybe he could find someone to toss it around with. _

_ Soon though, he began to feel a cramp in his leg. He tried to continue swimming, but the cramp grew worse and he found himself unable to continue. He fell below the water and choke when he accidentally swallowed salt water. He tried to swim, but he felt weak and couldn't move._

_ Suddenly strong arms grabbed him and pulled him out of the water. He felt someone carrying him to the shore. He coughed up water and looked to see his father looking worried as he carried him to the shore. His father set him on the sheet gently._

_ Ryan sat up feeling better, but his chest felt as if it was on fire. He looked at his mom, who was pale faced and scared. "Ryan," His father said softly as he stroked his hair. He looked him in the eyes. "What you did there was very dangerous." He paused and sat down beside him. "Can you tell me what you did?"_

_ Ryan looked at his mother again and then at his dad fearfully. "I swam too far," He weakly said, "And I didn't listen to you."_

_ "Exactly," His father pointed out. _

_ "I'm sorry," He apologized begging to cry. "I saw a ball and wanted to get it so you and I could play."_

_ His father's heart broke when he began to cry. He took him in his embrace and kissed him on the top of the head. "It's okay," He whispered in his ear. "Just don't do it again."_

_ "We don't get to play like we used to," Ryan said looking up at his father. He sniffled and wiped his nose with his forearm. "You are always working." _

_ Ryan's slowly caressed his cheek. "I know I work a lot," His father began. "And one day, you will understand why." He paused and took a deep breath. "Mainly as I have told you, I put bad men in jail. That is why I work so hard." He paused again and kissed him on the head. "But don't worry, I will always be there for you for whatever you need."_

Ryan's thoughts was interrupted when there was he heard a knock on the door. He yawned and sat up from the couch. His entire body was sore and he could use a good night sleep. But that was a luxury that he couldn't afford. One that he may never get.

He approached the door and opened it to see Carrie standing there. She smiled and took a step toward him. Her smiled vanished when she saw the stitches and bruise on his forehead. "Oh my god," She said stepping up to him. She dropped her purse on the floor. "What happened to you?" She looked at him concerned.

"It's nothing," He said with a small shrug. He shut the door and locked it. "Just a minor cut."

"A minor cut," She said shaking her head. She eyed the ugly looking wound. "I know you Ryan Hardy and I know when you are in pain." She took his hands and then leaned close. "Aside from me being a reporter, you are a terrible liar."

"Fair enough," He frowned.

"So am I going to get to know who kicked my man's ass this time?" Carrie asked with a small smile.

"Am I your man?" Ryan asked giving her a quirky look.

"Of course you are," She said smiling at him. She leaned close and kissed him briefly. "You never answered my question though."

"An old flame of mine," He said thinking of Molly.

He thought back to the first time he brought her back to his apartment. The first time he slept with her. Then when he found out she was really a cut member and how betrayed he felt. She tried and failed to kill both him and Claire, with the hope to bring on the last chapter of Joe's book. Now she was back with a vengeance and he knew how perilous that would be for everyone.

"You have a lot of old flames Ryan," Carrie said with a bitter laugh. She looked him in the eyes enjoying the warmth they give her.

"That is true," Ryan said with a small smile.

Carrie let go of him and began to pace around the living room. "I care about you Ryan," She said looking at him. "Yet it seems every time I see you, you seem to be either covered in your own blood or someone else's."

"That is also true," Ryan said with a small shrug, "There was a murder case we were working on in Minnesota." He paused watching her grab a bottle of water from the fridge. "But it went south."

"I see," She taking a sip of water. She set it on the counter top and then approached him. "I am glad you are okay," She said with feeling. She suddenly hugged him tight and kissed him deeply.

"So am I," He joked after they broke their kiss.

Carrie looked at him with a small grin. She playfully punched him in the chest. "So what do I have to do to get fed around here?" She asked with a wink.

* * *

Max was usually the strong and silent type. She hardly cried. Of course she was just as emotional as any female, but with her having Hardy blood in her, she kept it to herself. Also a life as a FBI agent had given her strength that she didn't know she had.

Yet now she sat beside Mike in the hospital room waiting for him to wake. Despite all her strength, she cried a lot for him. She didn't want him to die and after seeing him get shot in the neck, she thought he would have. The bullet missed his neck by two inches. Another two inches and she would be probably be mourning him from the cemetery.

It all happened too quickly. One second she was standing by Ryan and Mike watching the two of them having a tender conversation, then she was covered in his own blood, desperately trying to keep him alive.

She looked at him waiting anxiously. He had a large bandage covering his neck and part of his shoulder. He looked so sweet and peaceful laying there. All she wanted to do was lie next to him, cuddling with him. But the bed was meant for one person only.

She hadn't felt this nervous about a boyfriend in a long time. Her boyfriend was over two years ago, which she ended for various reasons. When she was in high school, her boyfriend got into a car accident and was in a coma for a week, before waking. After that, he was never the same and moved away with his family for medical purposes. She tried to keep in touch, but it was no good. The phone calls were less often and soon ceased completely.

To this day, she missed him greatly. His name was Jimmy and was as nerdy as can be. He was a huge Star Wars fan, yet was built like a linebacker. He would've played expect for bad knees. Instead he helped Coach the players when he could. It was strange in the school for such a nerd to be so popular. He was well liked of course and she really though that when they graduated, they would get married. But then came the accident and everything went south.

It took her years until she was ready to date again, but she didn't find anyone that she truly cared about. Then she met Mike. She found him cute from the moment she saw him, but didn't want to admit it. After working with him for a while, she felt that he liked her too. Yet she didn't ask him out, because he never made a move.

Then she accidentally saw him naked in Ryan's apartment. It was after his father's brutal death, he was at Ryan's house and was showering. He walked out with only a towel one, just as she entered his house. She tried not to look at him, but he was just darn too cute.

Max felt someone reach out and touch her hand gently. She opened her eyes, surprised that she had fallen asleep. She felt extremely groggy, but was able to make out Mike smiling at her. "Hey there," He said hoarsely. He squeezed her hand affectionately.

"Hey to you too," She said smiling at him. She grasped his hand with both of hers. "How are you feeling?"

Mike reached and touched the thick bandage on his neck. He swallowed loudly and then said in a scratchy voice, "I feel like I am on cloud nine." He paused and began to chuckle. "I feel no pain at all."

"I doubt you would feel pain," Max said with a thin smile, "You have enough drugs in you to put an elephant to sleep."

"I feel awesome," Mike said his smile widening. He swallowed again. "So how is Ryan doing?"

"He is okay," She said running a hand through her hair. "A bit scratched up, but otherwise fine." She paused giving him a nervous look. "You were the one that got the worse hand of it."

"Yeah I know," He said touching his bandage again.

"You know you scared the hell out of me," She said fearfully. "When I saw you get hit and with all that blood, I really thought you were going to die."

"Stop that Max," He said in a serious tone. He sat up straight and caressed her cheek. "I am alive and well. Okay. So stop thinking about what didn't happen."

"You're right," She said feeling a bit of relief.

She was still feeling nervous about the ordeal. Their jobs wasn't the safest one and with her experience with men, it added insult to injury. Plus it could be that she had the Hardy dating curse. Except hers was with men, while Ryan's was with women.

Mike saw Max was deep in thought. He leaned close kissing her deeply which surprised her. When they broke apart moments later, she gave him a sensual look and then kissed him again deeper and harder. They explored each other's mouths with their tongues. A soft moan escaped her mouth, moments before they broke apart again.

"Wow," She said slightly dazed. She looked at him turned on. "That was one of the best kisses I have ever had."

"Same here," He said smiling at her slightly drunk. He wished he could be on pain killers forever. He was feeling amazing. "Did the doctors say how long I would be staying here?"

"Another day or so," She said leaning forward in her chair. She wanted to kiss him again. Deeper and longer this time. "The doctor mentioned that you have one more test, before you can go home."

"Damn," Mike said glancing at the TV that was off. "So what happened with Molly?" He asked after a moment's pause.

"After she shot you," Max said thinking back to that awful moment. She felt herself shudder in fear. "She disappeared," She shrugged, "We don't know where she is at the moment."

"Damn," Mike said shaking his head. He felt bad for Ryan.

"Yeah I know," Max said, "Ryan is pretty shaken up about it. He tries to hide it, but I can see through his shield."

"Yeah I know," Mike said in agreement.

Max was about to say something else, but she couldn't hold back any longer. She leaned close and kissed him again deeply. He was caught by surprise, but soon leaned close and hugged her tightly with one arm as they once again explored each other's mouths with their tongues.

* * *

Mark peered through the car window as Cruz drove down the long and windy road that would lead to _his_ new home. The trip from New York had taken nearly sixteen hours of driving and he was more than glad to be done with it. He didn't mind a car ride, but sixteen hours was clearly insane.

On either side of the road, was large oak trees that partly shielded the sun. Dry leaves cluttered the street. It was almost a foot high in certain areas. The road led to a large colonial house, something that resembled to the home of a brilliant Professor.

Surrounding the house, was a long driveway filled with an assortment of cars and vans. On the left side were two basketball courts, a tennis court, and an Olympic size pool. There was a small jungle gym beside a freshly painted garage. A small well primed flower garden decorated the front of the house and there was a handful of wind chimes that sang with every gust of wind.

"We are here," Cruz said pulling up to the house. He glanced at Mark as he turned off his car. "Time to meet daddy."

Mark stepped out of the car feeling unsure if he was making the right decision. Maybe it would be better to be alone. Yes, he would be all by himself and on the constant run, but because he didn't have to worry about anyone else aside from himself it would be easier. Of course he wished he had Luke by his side. It would make everything a lot better and easier.

"Don't worry Mark," Cruz said slapping him on the back playfully as he approached the front door. "We are all family here. So there is nothing to be afraid of."

"I am not afraid," Mark said following him

"Sure whatever you say Mark," Cruz said with a laugh.

Cruz stepped into the house as a tall and well-dressed French man approached with a smile on his face. He had shoulder length brown hair and a cleanly shaved face that had the musky scent of expensive aftershave. He was thin, yet muscular.

"Merce Cruz," He said happily as he approached. He gave him a tight hug and then a kiss on the forehead. ""I am glad you are okay."

"Everything worked smoothly," He said with a proud smile. "No one had a clue."

"That is good," He said placing an affectionate hand on his shoulder. He looked him in the eyes. "It makes me so happy to hear that." He looked at Mark who was standing a feet away looking out of place. "Now you must be Mark?" He let go of Cruz and approached Mark who eyed him with uncertainty. "You are looking a lot older then the last time I saw you." He reached out to shake his hand. "The name is Amable," He gave him a large and warm smile.

Mark glanced at the man's hands feeling nervous. He swallowed and slowly reached out. He grasped it and then looked at Amable curiously. He didn't say anything. Not because he didn't have anything to say there were tons of questions, but he wasn't sure where to start.

"It is nice to finally meet you after all these years," He said letting go of Mark's hand. He took a step away from him and then bowed slightly.

"You must be," Mark stopped himself mid sentence.

"Yes I am your papa," He said with a warm smile. "The one and only." He began to laugh at his own joke.

"Listen," Cruz said stepping away. "I am tired after such a long drive." He paused for a few awkward seconds. "I think I am going to grab a small bite and then lay down."

Amable gave Cruz a small smile. "Dinner is in an hour," He said, "I don't want you to ruin your appetite."

"What is for dinner?" He asked.

"Roast beef with a side of mashed potatoes, tomato soup, a toss salad, and fresh biscuits," He said hungrily. He couldn't wait to eat. "At least that is what the chef told me he was making." He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled softly. "He couldn't been pulling my leg."

Amable turned back to Mark who continued to stand there feeling out of place. "I know this is strange for you," He said gently.

"That hardly describes it," Mark said crossing his arms over his chest. "I have so many questions."

"You may ask one," He said abruptly holding up his index finger.

"What?" Mark asked confused.

"That was your question," Amable said. He pointed to nowhere and then said in a loud voice, "Now off with your head." He laughed at his own joke. He took note of his seriousness and then said, "Don't worry Mark, I am just kidding around here."

"How are you my father?" Mark asked continuing to look at him suspiciously. "I mean how did mother and you meet?"

Mark listened intently as Amable began. Lily and he met while she was on an Art Expose in France. He came to view her painting and she found him exciting and attractive. A cup of coffee, led to dinner, and then a night of sex. That went on for a few months. She found him cunningly and deceptively intelligent. He seemed to know every detail of her paintings.

One day, precisely twenty-one years ago, she joined him on a trip to feed local orphans, and that is where she saw the twins; Luke and Mark. They were in France, despite being clearly American. They were barely a year old when she decided to adopt them. She fell in love with them immediately and it didn't take long before she took them home.

At that time, Amabale and Lily were sharing a house together, right by a large lake surrounded by lush trees and grass fields. It was a sight to see. The plot of land belonged to Amabale and resembled something close to Eden itself. The sun, when out, shown on the lake with such brilliance like a large diamond. It was one of the most beautiful sites in the world.

Lily lived there for almost four years, before she felt it need to move to New York. She told Amabale that it was for an Art Expose, but in reality his clinginess was beginning to annoy her. After a months of arguing, he told her he was staying, while she picked up her things and along with Mark and Luke left France.

She made it to New York safely and with the help of an ominous person, she smuggled her two sons in. She found a house in Monticello, which was in the mountains of New York. She lived there for a year, before she adopted Sami and Randel. They were two years old and were inseparable. Soon, she adopted again, a girl named Radmilla.

"Your mother and I stayed friends for many years," Amable said, "I left France a year ago and have lived here ever since."

"So you aren't really my dad," Mark said stepping away from him. "You raised me for a few years, but genetically you aren't my dad."

"That is true if you get technical," Amable said with a small shrug. "But that doesn't mean I didn't love you or your brother."

"If you loved us so much," Mark asked looking at him confused. He wasn't sure what his take on this man was. "Why haven't you contacted us until now?"

Amable was about to respond when a young women around Mark's age approached. She eyed him curiously before turning toward Amable. She said something to him in French and then eyed Mark again.

"I have an idea," He said with a smile. "Dinner is going to be ready soon. Why doesn't Annabelle show you to your room where you can wash up."

"Follow me," Anabelle politely said.

Amabale locked eyes with Mark as he followed her up the windy staircase that led to the second and third floors. He waited until they were out of sight before he cleared his throat and then made his way to the basement. The basement had a total of ten rooms, all except for one was empty.

He entered the last room on the left and then closed the door behind him. As soon as he entered, a bright light turned on. In the middle of the room, there lay a man dirtied and bloodied. He groaned as Amable approached. The man was handcuffed to the table by his wrists and ankles.

"Guess who," Amable sang tantalizing him.

"Screw you," The man cursed at him.

"You know it is impolite to curse out the host," Amabale said as he approached the bed. He tapped the man on the head a few times in a scolding way.

The man tried his best to raise both his hands, but the handcuffs prevented him from doing so. "If I still had my middle fingers," The man spat at him.

Amable looked at the man's hands. He smiled. "Yes I cut those off earlier," He shrugged his shoulders not really caring. "I bet it hurt."

The man lifted his head to look at Amabale. "I am not going to say anything," He said through clenched teeth. "Do your worst."

Amabale tapped him on the head again. "If you say so," He sang cheerfully.

He approached the table that had an assortment of medieval like torture tools. He grabbed a nasty looking knife and then approached the man. "I already know Agent Giles," He began in a creepy tone, "That you were one of the guys who were part of the secret service department taking care of Clair Mathews." He leaned close and placed the blade beside his jugular. "Tell me where she is."

"My lips are sealed," Giles said and to prove his point he pressed his lips tightly together.

"That's too bad," Amable said removing the knife from his throat. "It seems you are hard of hearing." He began to cut off his ear, ignoring the thunderous screams and the blood that squirted everywhere. "I am here to fix that," He said as he sawed it off. He tossed the bloody flesh on Clark's chest so that he could see it. "Now if you value your other ear," He said roughly, "You will tell me where Claire Mathews is."

* * *

Sorry about the long update. Hope you liked the chapter! Of course I would never kill off Mike. He is one of my fav characters as well. lol

But in the near future there will be crazy deaths... it is The Following.. heh heh heh..

Shaw 18


	8. Daddy Issues Part 2

The Following: Peace Love and Happiness

Season 3:

Episode 4: Daddy Issues

Mark stepped out of the shower and began drying himself off. He wrapped the damp towel around his waist. He approached the mirror and glanced at his reflection. There were bags beneath his eyes from lack of sleep and his skin complexion was paler than usual from not eating properly.

It wasn't that the food wasn't available, he just didn't have much of an appetite. He may have lost weight, but he wasn't sure. It didn't really look like it, but it felt as if he had. Since he was always skinny, it was hard to tell.

One second, he was studying his own reflection, then he was seeing his brother smiling at him lovingly. He rubbed his eyes, but his brother still stood there looking back at him. "Luke," He said in a soft voice.

"Yes it is me," Luke replied his smile widening. "Boy you look awful man."

"It has been tough," Mark said shaking his head in dismay.

"Tell me about," Luke said his smile vanishing. He sighed loudly. "Not too long ago, all of us were together." He paused for a few moments. "Now, just look at where we are." He shrugged his shoulders. "We have lost everything."

"Not everything," Mark said in a low voice. "I am still here."

"That is true," Luke said his smile returning. "By the way, thank you for what you are did with me in the forest. It was very sweet of you."

"You're welcome," Mark said with a thin smile.

"Mark we need to talk serious now," Luke said his smile vanishing. "These people you are with now, yes he may be our dad, but we can't trust him."

"I know," Mark agreed.

"He was not there for us," Luke continued, "Mother was. She always was there for us." He paused for a few moments studying Mark as he was processing what he was telling him. "Remember before I died, we were having dinner with some very bad people." He put emphasis on the word bad.

"I haven't forgotten," Mark said. He narrowed his eyes at his brother.

"Good," Luke said nodding his head. "Because, whatever this man has in store for us, is not nearly important as revenge." He paused for a few seconds. "Ryan's niece of a bitch shot me in the head. It is time to shoot back. Twice the bullet, twice the kill."

"I would love to," Mark said dangerously.

"That is awesome," Luke said pleased. "Because nothing is better than revenge and I want Ryan to feel that. I want Ryan to wish that he had never messed with the Gray brothers."

"It is not going to be easy," Mark said trying to think of a plan.

"Don't worry little brother," Luke reassured him. "My physical essence has ceased to exist, but I will always be there for you. Regardless of the time or place. I will always be looking out for you."

A knock on the door interrupted him causing him to slightly jump. He looked toward the bathroom door and then back at the mirror. Luke's reflection was gone, now replaced with his own. He could still hear his words. They flowed through him, similar to his blood. A smile very similar to that his brother always had appeared on his face as he left the bathroom.

He opened the bedroom door and saw Annabelle standing there. When she noticed him only in his towel, she briefly eyed him up and down enjoying his thin, yet muscular frame before turning around. "Papa just wanted me to tell you that dinner is ready," She said blushing.

"Good," Mark said turning away from the door. "I'm starved. Give me a minute and I will be dressed."

"I will wait here," She said as he closed the door in her face.

Literally a minute later, he opened the door wearing dark jeans and a black shirt that had a Pink Floyd logo on it. "I'm back," He said smiling at her.

"It is nice to see you with clothes on," She said boldly. "Anyways follow me, dinner is ready and I bet you are starved." She gave him a small, twisted smile before turning away from him.

Mark followed her downstairs to the dining room which was brightly lit. There were a total of eight places at the table, all except three were filled. The head of the table was empty as well as two beside it. Everyone sitting at the table smiled at Annabelle as she pointed to the seat next to the head. "The honor is all yours," She said looking at him with a small wink.

Mark sighed not wanting to sit next to his so called father. At this point he wanted nothing to do with him. Just as his brother had said to him earlier. He could not be trusted. None of them could be trusted.

Mark took a seat and then watched as Amable entered the room all freshened up. He approached his spot, but didn't sit down. He smiled at everyone sitting around the table before him. "This is a very auspicious time," He began as he leaned against his chair. He looked at Mark who shifted uncomfortably in his spot. "We have a very special guest here." He smiled at Mark. "I have had the pleasure of being reunited with my son, Mark, who has been away for a while," He paused for a few moments as everyone looked at him, causing him to grow even more uncomfortable. "Mark will be staying with us for a while."

"Now before we begin eating," Amable continued, "I want to introduce the rest of the family." He looked at Annabelle and said, "This is Annabelle and you have already met her."

Mark looked at Annabelle who smiled him, which caused him to swallow with uncertainty. He wondered what her thoughts of him were.

Next to her was a young man, named Tim, who had black hair to his shoulders. He was skinny and seemed to about twenty years old. Next to him was Cruz, someone he had already dealt with before. On the other end table sat a middle aged woman name Charlene who was not looking too happy at the moment. She had blond wavy hair and pale skin.

On the other side of the table sat a girl about ten years old named Ashley. She had red shoulder length hair and freckles all over her arms and cheeks. In the next spot was a thirteen year old boy named Jacob, who had short brown hair and a Red Sox baseball cap. In the last spot sat a muscled man named Michael. He was wearing a Stone Sour shirt and a backward Tigers cap.

"Now that we have all be introduced," Amable said taking a seat. "It is time to pray before we eat." He took hold of Michael's hand and watched as everyone took each other's hand. He took Mark's hand who was not used to this at all. "Bless us oh Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen." Amable opened his eyes and smiled at his family lovingly, "And now it is time to feast."

* * *

Ryan opened his fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. He poured himself a glass and then turned on the TV. The news was on, talking about the recent heat wave and how much longer it would stay that hot. He made a face not liking the weather predictions. He then took a sip of milk.

The weather report ended and next the sports segment. The topic of the Mets came up and what could be done to make the once popular franchise winning again. The reporters spoke about the 80s and early 90s and how much fun it was for a Mets fan then. The other reporter mentioned that he was a Yankees fan.

Ryan was about to change the channel, when he heard his phone ring. He looked at the caller ID, not recognizing the number. "Hello?" He asked beginning to feel anxious.

"Ryan Hardy," A male voice said, "This is Hannibal Lector."

"Oh hello Hannibal," Ryan said feeling instant relief. He knew that Hannibal was not a threat to him.

"I hope I am not calling at a bad time," Hannibal began. "But I just wanted to see how you were feeling."

"I am okay," Ryan said confused to why he was calling.

He felt it was slightly odd that he was calling him now. Other than their conversation in the kitchen about possible therapy, they really didn't say anything else to each other. Yet, Hannibal seemed to have some interest in him and he wondered why.

"I am glad to hear that," Hannibal replied. "And how is Mike feeling?"

"He is still in the hospital," Ryan said thinking back to when he visited him after his head was stitched up. "He should be released in a day or so."

"That's good," Hannibal said pleased. "So I was not only calling to see how you were feeling. I actually wanted to also see if you were interested in therapy."

Ryan groaned inwardly. He set his glass of milk on the counter as Carried stepped into the living room wearing nothing but his shirt. She saw him on the phone as she approached. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

"Hannibal," Ryan said, "I will get back to you on that one."

Ryan ended the phone call. He reached for his mil and took a sip. "Morning," He said looking at her.

"You're up early," She said stepping up to him. She leaned close and kissed him.

"Yeah," Ryan said setting his glass on the counter again. "Couldn't sleep."

"Well I slept like a baby," She said giving him a sensual smile. "I haven't slept that soundly in a long time."

"Glad to hear," He said pleased.

"And I like it when you smile," She said staring into his eyes. She felt like she could lost in them. "You should do that more often."

"When the time is right," Ryan said with a shrug, "And the mood is right."

"What kind of mood are you in now?" She asked hugging him tightly.

"A good one," he said continuing to smile at her. "Despite all that is going on, I feel pretty relaxed now."

"Good," She said pleased.

Carried kissed him hard. She reached behind his head pushing him closer as she played with his tongue. He held her tightly with one arm and with his free hand, he played with her hair. She moaned softly enjoying his every touch.

When they broke apart moments later, she was out of breath "I am going to jump in the shower," She said giving him a seductive look. "Care to join me?" She bit her lower lip.

"Of course," He said watching her walk toward the bathroom. She was too cute. He was about to follow her when there was a knock on the door. "Damn," He cursed wondering who that could be.

Ryan opened the front door, to find Max standing there holding Shoprite grocery bags. "Good morning," She said smiling at him. "I brought breakfast and Gina will be here soon as well."

Ryan had completely forgotten. They had planned to spend the day doing some research. That is when Carrie came over and his next day plans slipped his mind. That was until now.

Before Ryan could respond. He saw Gina approach carrying a cardboard box with files written on it. "Good morning guys," She said with a smile. "I brought the files, which means we have a lot of work to go through."

"Um," Ryan began. He gripped the door uncomfortable unsure what to tell them.

At that moment Carrie approached with nothing but a towel around her midsection. "Ryan where," She stopped abruptly when she saw Max and Gina by the front door. "Oh," She grew instantly embarrassed.

"Yeah," Ryan said tapping the door awkwardly.

Carrie turned and left the living room to change. "She spent the night," Ryan said stating the obvious.

"I can see that," Max said stepping into the apartment. She set her bags on the floor beside the kitchen.

Carrie returned moments later fully dressed. "I'm sorry about that," She said embarrassed.

"Don't worry about that," Max replied with an awkward smile.

"I'll let you guys get to work," Carrie said turning toward Ryan. "It looks like you are going to busy."

Ryan stepped out into the apartment hallway. "Full day of research," He said with a small shrug.

"Am I going to see you tonight?" She asked hopefully. She leaned close giving him a small kiss.

"Of course," He said with a smile.

"Well I have to run," She said feeling sad. She wished she could spend the entire day with him. "I guess I will see you tonight."

"See you later," He said kissing her again.

Ryan returned to Max and Gina who had the table already set for breakfast. He saw bottles of orange juice and grapefruit juice. There was a plate of toasted bagels, a bowl of scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and cut up vegetables. There were three different types of cream cheese and two types of sliced cheese.

"So how are the love birds doing?" Gina asked with a playful wink.

"We are fine," Ryan simply said as he took a seat.

The three of them ate breakfast chatting about their health, Mike's health, as well Jeffery's who was feeling better after taking three shots to the chest If it weren't for the bullet proof vest he was wearing at the time, then he'd definitely be dead.

After they ate, they went to the office and began their research. Gina handed out files to each of them and they began to read. Ryan got Joe's file, while Gina got Molly's and Max received Lily's file.

Joe's file read as this. He was born and raised in London. He moved to the United States where he studied and became a professor of literature. While attending the Lightford Academy, a 17 year old Joe Carroll attended this school, was taught under Dr. Arthur Strauss.

Carroll, like others before and after him, became a "student" of his...more so than just on an academic level. He tutored the youth on how to remove eyes with precision from his victims but also states that Joe wasn't even his "best student". There was one more. A French man whose name is unknown.

He had a relationship with Claire Matthews, another professor at Winslow, whom he married and fathered a son, Joey. Claire told Joe she was pregnant in 2002. He taught literature at Winslow University, emphasizing the Romantic Period, with which he was obsessed. His lectures focused on writers such as Thoreau, Emerson, and his favorite and idol, Edgar Allan Poe.

In 2003 he published his first and only novel, The Gothic Sea, which was inspired by Poe's last and unfinished work, The Light-House, according to Claire he fancied himself as Poe and that his novel was his way of finishing what Poe began in his unfinished work. However, it was a flop commercially and critically. This angered him and caused him to begin murdering female students.

Like Poe, Joe believed in the "insanity of art" and that it needed to be physically and emotionally "felt". He began to create his own form of art - eviscerating college girls. He gouged out their eyes as a tribute to some of his favorite works of Poe. The Telltale Heart and The Black Cat, because Poe believed the eyes were one's identity, the windows into one's soul. He remarked during one of his lectures, that Poe equates death with beauty and nothing was more beautiful than the death of a beautiful woman.

Lily's file was much smaller. She was adopted and raised by a billionaire. It was under assumption that she murdered him just to get his money. She is an avid art fan and runs her own gallery. Not much else is known about her. Not only, because she was smart and deceiving, but because she had a lot of connections. Many that the FBI didn't know about.

Molly was an ex-girlfriend and occasional lover of Ryan Hardy. They met at a party and dated for a while, before he breaks up with her. She remembered him being withdrawn. It isn't clear how long she had been part of Joe's cult, but she would give information about Ryan to him. She also was a nurse at a terminal ward. She revealed later on that she felt that she is an Angel of Death who was killing the patients in her ward. She also wanted to be the one to kill Ryan.

Ryan groaned and shut Joe's file. "What is the point of this?" He asked rhetorically. He was in no mood for this. "This is all stuff that we already know."

"That is true," Max said looking up at him. "But this is something that needs to be done." She gave him a reassuring smile. "Believe me I want everyone, all those bastards out there that have even breathed one miniscule breath of involvement in this mass destructive cult, to be behind bars." She sighed, "But until then, we have to find out everything we can about these people and Joe, Lily, and now Molly, seem to be the most important people in the picture now."

"I agree," Gina said. She took a sip of coffee. "Don't worry Ryan, soon we will be out there, guns blazing like in some crappy Arnold Schwarzenegger film."

Ryan chuckled as he reopened Joe's file. There was still more on him and he knew he had to read through it. Research was just important, even though boring, as searching for people involved in the cult. Who knew how many there could be? How close that person was to them? It could be almost anyone.

* * *

Joe was dreaming again. But this time it wasn't of his experiences as cult leader. He often dreamt about different futures of himself if he hadn't been arrested. Now, it seemed as if he was having a peaceful dream of his family. It was far different from the terrifying and disturbing dreams that he usually had.

He was with Claire and Joe in a canoe in the middle of an unknown lake. The weather was warm and sticky. Thick dark clouds covered areas of the sky often shielding the sun. It threatened to rain any moment. Tall trees and large rocks surrounded the lake.

Joe sat on one side of the canoe with a fishing rod in his grasp. Joey sat a few feet away watching his father with such curiosity that only a boy could have while Claire watched her husband lovingly.

"And the fish eat that?" Joey asked pointing to the steel can of worms by his father's ankle.

"Not only do they eat it," Joe pointed out, "They go crazy for it." He looked at his son. "Yummy in their very tummy."

"That is disgusting," Joey said shaking his head.

"Do you want some?" He asked pointing to the can.

"No way," Joey shook his head. He made a face. "Never."

"Well I find them delicious," Joe said pretending to reach into the tin.

At that moment his rod tugged. He grabbed it and began to wheel in the fish. "Get ready Joey," He said glancing at him. "I think it is a big one."

"How can you tell?" Claire asked curiously.

"I can feel it," Joe said pulling the rod.

At that moment a splash was heard and a fish flapped around. Joe stood up and began to wire it in, when suddenly the canoe shook and turned over. He fell in hitting the side of his head on the edge of the canoe. He felt the splash, but no pain whatsoever. He swam and grabbed the edge of the canoe, pulling himself over it.

He expected to find his son and wife looking at him worried and thankful that he was okay. But they weren't there. In fact he was not even in the canoe or in the lake. He was also quite dry. He found himself though, in a large courtyard, surrounded by many trees. Birds chirping could be heard in the distance and the sun shone through the trees brightly, nearly blinding him.

"Claire?" He called out. He turned around looking for them but only saw trees. "Joey?"

Suddenly Ryan popped out of nowhere, causing him to jump. "Hi there," He said with a smile on his face.

"Jesus Ryan," Joe said shaking his head.

"I am not Jesus," Ryan frowned. "But I guess I should be flattered."

"Where is Claire and Joey?" He asked taking a step toward him.

"Far away from you," Ryan said giving him a no care look. "Far away from the animal you are."

"Is that how you see man Ryan?" Joe asked with a raised eyebrow. "Do you see me as an animal?"

"Yes I do," Ryan said with a dangerous smile, "And do you know what we do with animals?"

"No," Joe asked confused. "What?"

A gun suddenly appeared in his grasp. "Animals are meant to be put down." He motioned for Joey who was suddenly standing beside Ryan. "Joey, show me what I have taught you."

Joey took the gun out of Ryan's grasp and pointed it at his father. "I hate you," He said in a weak voice.

"Joey," Joe began. His eyes welled up. "Don't."

"You destroyed this family," Claire said as she suddenly appeared. "So now it is time for you to go." She took Ryan's hand. "Joey do it. Make Mommy proud."

Joey gave his father a pleased smile as he took a step toward him. He raised the gun high and said, "I wish I never met you." With that he shot him in the head.

Joe gasped and woke up with a start. He thrashed around trying to block the bullet, before he realized that it was all a dream. He sat up and wiped his sweaty brow with the palm of his hand. "Damn," He muttered. He knew that he couldn't fall back asleep on the account of another nightmare.

* * *

Amable whistled a jovial tune as he made his way into the basement. He unlocked the last door and stepped inside. He locked the door behind him and then made his way to Giles who was looking at him fearfully. "Oh you aren't happy to see me," Amable said shrugging his shoulders. "Well the feeling is mutual." He slapped him playfully on the cheek. "So are we going to be more helpful this time?"

"Nope," Giles simply said. A tear dripped down his blood stained cheek and to the table.

"That's too bad," Amable shook his head. "You know I really don't like doing this."

"That's a lie," Giles said swallowing loudly.

Amable eyed a blowtorch on the table and decided to use it. He rolled up his sleeves and then took it. "You got me there," He said turning it on. "I love this shit."

"I am not going to say anything," Giles said.

"That's too bad," Amable said stepping up to Giles.

He leaned over him and lowered the flame a few inches from his left eye. Giles gulped loudly but didn't say anything. Amable watched as beads of sweat appeared on his dirty brow and then slowly dripped down to his face.

"You do realize how much easier this would be for the both of us, if you would just let me know what I want to know," Amable said in a childlike tone. "Please don't make me hurt you more than you already are."

"Agent Giles," He began in an almost robotic tone. "Born in 1964, Austin, Texas. 131-08-4621."

"Just stop it," Amable scolded him. "Do you wish to die?"

Giles didn't answer him. Instead, he continued to shout out his personal information without a care. Amable cursed and lowered the flame until it nearly touched his eye. Giles screamed out as agonizing pain overtook him. He shook wildly in the bed nearly breaking out of the restraints. The skin around his eye turned bright red and black as it began to bubble and blister. The skin darkened and the blistered soon popped.

"Okay now," Amable said turning off the blowtorch. "Will you tell me what I want to know?"

Giles was crying in pain. He shook his head yes and when the pain subsided enough for him to talk, he looked at Amable with his good eye. "Ryan knows," He said in between breaths.

"Don't take me for a fool," Amable snarled punching him in the gut. "I know that Ryan knows nothing about Claire. He is busy with someone else." He paused and turned on the blowtorch again. "So if you value your other eye, tell me what I want to know. Where is Claire Mathews?"

"I don't know," Giles softly said through clenched teeth.

"I doubt that very much," Amable said waving the blowtorch in front of his face. "I know you were one of the agents that helped keep her hidden from everyone after her so-called death." He paused and leaned close to him. "Where is she?"

"I don't know," He said shaking his head.

"Stop lying to me," Amable shouted at him.

Amable lowered the blowtorch over his good eye. Once again, Giles' high pitch screams filled the room. He thrashed around wildly in the bed as the skin around his good eye burned. Blisters appeared and soon popped.

"Where is Claire Mathews?" Amable said turning off the blowtorch. "A name will even help."

Giles was breathing heavily as the pain subsided. He swallowed loudly and looked in the direction of where he thought Amable was standing. "Fine." He said giving in. "US Marshall Scott Thompson."

"Good job Giles," Amable said pleased.

"Will you let me go now?" Giles asked doubting that he actually would.

Amable tapped him on the forehead playfully before turning away from him. He left the room ignoring Giles completely. He locked the door behind him and thought about what his next move would be. He knew that he couldn't let Giles go, so killing him was the only answer. The next question was how he would get a hold of Scott. If he wanted to get Claire, he knew that Scott was the key.

* * *

Hope you liked it! Sorry about the long update. Been busy with school, but now the semester is finished. Which means more of The Following!

Shaw18


	9. Drastic Measures

The Following: Peace, Love, and Happiness

Episode 5

Drastic Measures

Carrie wanted the night to be perfect. This time Ryan was coming to her place, instead of her always coming to his. This was the first time that he was staying by her place, so it made sense that she was feeling extremely anxious. From the moment they had made the plan of him coming to her place for the night, she was counting the hours with childlike anticipation.

It seemed that they were both ready to take their relationship to the next level. Being in a committed relationship. When she first met him back in the bar, she only wanted one thing. His story. She slept with him to get that information. The second time she slept with him, was because she felt bad for using him. Then it became a regular thing and she began to really like him.

Ryan was one of the most awkward people she had ever met. He was funny, kind, caring, quirky, and extremely loyal. He was an extreme nerd, as being a major Star Trek fan. She only found this out, because she saw his DVD collection that he kept hidden in his closet. He had the entire box set of every series, as well as movies. He would sometimes quote the most random lines from any movie either trying to lighten up the situation or making it much worse. Yet with all these characteristics, then came his dark side. One name. Joe Carroll.

The whole Joel and Ryan story from the outside seemed to be an awful slash story written by some half-witted want to be novelist using someone else' characters as opposed to making his own. Such as, Joe, a brilliant professor with a dark stigma, his wife, an over oblivious woman, and a son as innocent can be. So Joe, becomes one of the most perilous and ruthless killers in the country, yet with his hardened heart, he has a soft spot for his wife, son, and Ryan Hardy. Why is that so? Why is Ryan part of everything that Joe did? What is the connection, outside of the love affair between Ryan and Clair? Could that be it?

Those were questions that she had every day. The reporter part of her wanted to squeeze out every letter of information from Ryan just to appease her curiosity. Yet, the part of her that cared for Ryan, wanted to just the opposite and the more time she spent with him, the less she really found it important. She wanted to keep him happy and his mind in peace. Using him for information, would be just the opposite.

Carrie sighed and then opened the over door. Using a hand towel, she pulled out the lasagna and then tore off the foil covering. She grabbed some cheddar and mozzarella cheese from the fridge and then sprinkled it on top of the lasagna. She then replaced the lasagna back in the oven. Ryan would be by her place very soon and she wanted everything to be done cooking when he came.

She began to prepare a toss salad while her thoughts drifted to her latest novel. From as early as she could remember, she wanted to be a reporter. She also loved English and was working on two novels. Her first one, was about a soldier in Iraq and battling his personal demons there, he left behind his wife and two kids.

Her next novel was far different. This was about a vampire hunter during the middle ages. She was in the early stages of writing the book, but was liking how it was forming out. With all her books, she would come up with the characters and their descriptions, next she would make an outline. After that, came the actual writing.

A knock on the door brought her back to reality. She smiled and wiped her hands on a towel. She opened the door, expecting to find Ryan, but was disappointed to find a UPS man there instead. "Yes," She asked looking at him confused. She wasn't expecting anything.

"Miss Carrie Cook?" He asked glancing at her and then his note pad.

"Yes, that is me," She answered. She gave him an uncertain look. :hat can I do for you?"

"Here this is for you," He said handing her a small package.

Carrie took it and then watched him walk away abruptly after that. There was no signing of any sort. She shut the door, locked it, and then opened up the small box with an anxious pit in her stomach. The box was strangely cold to the touch. When she saw what was inside, she dropped the box on the floor with a gasp, spilling out the package and the Styrofoam pieces inside.

There was another knock on the door, but she ignored it, staring at the box' contents wide eyed in fear. She could feel and hear her pounding heart in her head. The room seemed to be spinning and growing dark.

"Carrie," Ryan said after another knock. "Are you there?"

Carrie blinked coming back to her senses. She slowly turned away from the gruesome box and with a shaky hand opened the door. When Ryan saw her pale and fearful look, he grew instantly concerned. She tried to explain it to him, but found a lump in her throat instead. All she could muster was to point at it.

Ryan turned and saw an overturned box. He cursed as he inspected its contents. Inside, was a tightly sealed human brain and a note that said a few simple words.

"_He is mine you bitch! Use your brain!_

_Molly."_

* * *

Giles was in more pain then he had ever been in his life. His face still felt as if it were on fire, his skin as dry as sandpaper, and stretched like rubber. His face itched like crazy but since he was still bound to the bed, he couldn't scratch at it. All he could do is lay there in the darkness grimacing hoping that the itch would go away. But as he counted the minutes with extreme anticipation, it never did. It only grew worse.

In order to pass the time and to try to ignore the burning itch, he thought of his wife and kids. His wife, obviously worried sick, was most likely staying at her mother's house with the kids. He hoped she was safe there. If Amable could get to him, what were the chances that he would go after them? He hoped that ever since he gave the information that he wanted, he would leave him and his family alone.

He knew that he would never be able to see again, but even blind, he didn't want to leave his family behind. They were everything to him. All the perilous work he did, was for them. Now all he wanted was to be with them again.

He met his wife, Ashley, when he was in his mid-twenties. His younger sister thought that Ashley would be a good match, but he disagreed. He wasn't attracted to her and found her voice to be a little too high pitched. But, his sister kept pressuring her until he gave in and asked her out. It took two dates to realize that he liked her and within a few weeks of dating, he fell for her charm.

They married a year later in Hawaii and lived there for a year, before they moved to New York since he got transferred. She was a middle school drama teacher and easily got a job. Giles' daughter was born a year later and then their son was born five years later. They added a dog to the family a bit later.

Giles heard the door unlock and then swing open. He heard soft footsteps and gentle breathing. The door then closed and locked seconds later. "Who's there?" He asked holding his breath. He listened carefully for anything, but there was only silence. "Amable?" He swallowed nervously.

"Shhhh," A female voice shushed him. "The name is Annabelle."

Annabelle pulled out her switch blade and then began to cut him from his wrist up to his elbow. She ignored his screams as smile grew on her face while he bled on the table and floor. He thrashed around on the table again. She took a step backward and then inspected the bloody knife with sick enjoyment. There was a dangerous spark in her eyes as his cries died down.

"Please," He begged. "Let me go." He tried to ignore the pain in his arm. It was now worse than the burns. But with his sudden movement, he popped the blisters. Puss and blood leaked out of them.

"This looks like it hurt," She said looking at his burns. "You are one tough SOB."

"What is this?" Giles asked weakly. "Where is Amable?"

"He is busy at the moment," Annabelle said with a small shrug. She wiped the blood off the knife on his dirty shirt. "But I am here to help you."

"Some help," Giles said sarcastically.

Annabelle slowly walked around Giles and then leaned close toward his good ear. "What do you hold most dear to you in life?" She whispered in his ear.

Giles' heart dropped. He knew that he was not going to come out of this one alive. Annabelle seemed to be just as crazy as Amable. Amable probably sent her to come and continue to torture him for information. But he would give nothing else.

"This is stupid," Giles boldly said, "What kind of game are you playing at here?"

"Answer my question," Annabelle coldly said. She placed the knife against his throat. "What do you value most in your life?"

"My family," He responded in shaky voice.

"Me too," She said removing the knife. "My family is everything to me." She paused and slowly traced circles on his good arm with her finger in almost a sensual way. "I would do anything for them."

"Even kill the innocent?" Giles asked.

Annabelle stopped tracing circles. She looked at him and nodded her head. "Innocence is in the eyes of the beholder," She said thoughtfully. "From my view, hiding the guilty is a just cause for killing."

"And who do you see as guilty?" Giles asked not really sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Claire Mathews of course," Annabelle said strongly. "I know that you know where she is hiding and I just hope that the next Agent we get will be a little more cooperative with less of a mess."

"Why is she considered guilty?" Giles asked. "She is far from being guilty."

Annabelle chuckled softly. She leaned close to him and then whispered in his ear. "Don't worry your family won't be harmed." She ignored his questions as she slit his throat in a single fluidic motion.

Annabelle wiped the blood on his shirt as she heard him choking on his own blood. She walked away from him as she replaced her knife. She left the room to find Amable standing in the hall waiting for her. When he saw her, he smiled.

"You are nothing less than Annabelle," He said as she approached. "I am so glad that annoying agent is dead."

"He talked way too much," She said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. They walked away from the room.

"Next time I will remove the tongue," Amable frowned.

"So what is the next step?" She asked looking at him eager for more work. "Do we get the other agent he mentioned?"

"In due time," Amable said looking at her. "Right now, let's have some cake,"

"Cake?" She looked at him confused. He seemed unusually happy today.

"Yes cake," He said proudly. He hugged her with one arm. "I made chocolate cake in honor of Mark, because that is his favorite kind and I can't wait to have a piece."

With that Amable let go of her and then walked to the kitchen with the jump a kid eagerly running to the toy store. She chuckled and then followed her dad, hungry for some cake as well.

* * *

Mike wiped the steam off of the mirror and then glanced at his reflection. He knew that the gunshot wound on his throat would scar. The stitches would get removed in a few days, but that seemed too long. That entire area itched like crazy and he couldn't scratch at it. Not without ripping the stitching and causing his wound to bleed again.

There were bags under his eyes, from his stay at the hospital. The bed wasn't comfortable in the least, the blanket was thin and scratchy, and the pillow was too hard and smelled like mold. The food was horrible and gave him a constant stomach ache. But now that he was home, he was glad to be able to get a good meal and a good night's rest.

He replayed the scene back in Minnesota again for the hundredth time. One second he was standing beside Max and Ryan in the warehouse. He was listening to Ryan opening up about how wrong he was about the situation with Joe.

Mike wanted to tell him about his relationship with Max. He hoped that he would be okay with it. It was doubtful that Ryan would not like the idea of him dating his niece. He did tell him that he was practically family and if his relationship with Max actually went that far, then he would really be family.

He also wanted to apologize to Ryan again about the Claire situation. Even though it was so long ago, he still felt horrible about it. Ryan loved her and it broke him when he thought she had died. Then when his wounds began to heal, at least enough that he convinced those around him that he was okay, she came back. He was back to square one.

After Claire returned, Mike thought that they would get back together. He thought that she and Joey would move into Ryan's house and try to live a normal life. But after Joe's arrest, Ryan went and asked her just that and she turned him down. It hurt him like hell and both Mike and Max could see that clearly. All they could do was be there for him, if he wanted the help. He wasn't one to ask for much help.

Then there was Carrie Cook. He wasn't sure what her interest in Ryan was. Part of him, wanted to see the good in her and see that she wanted to be with Ryan, because she really wanted to be with him. Yet there was another part of him that told him that she was bad news. She may be the lovable girlfriend now, but the question was, when she would turn away from him. Which sick cult did she follow? Joe? Lily? Molly?

Max stepped up to Mike and hugged him from behind. She kissed his shoulder and then rested her head on him. He squeezed her hand affectionately and smiled at her through the mirrors reflection. "I know I have said this many times," She said gently dragging her nails along his forearms. "But you scared the hell out of me back there. I thought you were going to die."

Mike turned around and grabbed bother of her wrists gently. "Stop thinking like that okay." He softly scolded her. "I am alive and well." He paused and leaned close to her. "I am a superhero you know."

"I know," Max seriously said. She looked at him worried. "I can't help it you know."

Mike hugged her tightly. "I know exactly how you feel," He said kissing her on the top of the head. "But worrying and thinking about what did not happen will just make you sick." He let go and looked into her pretty eyes. He wiped away a tear. "You are a tough and strong girl and I know that you can do it."

"You have so much faith in me," She said chuckling.

"Of course I do," Mike said with a playful wink. "You are my girlfriend."

Max smiled and leaned close kissing him deeply. She wrapped her arms around him tightly as she deepened her kiss. She felt one of his hands on her back and the other playing with her hair. She loved when he did that. He had such a gentle touch, it almost seemed weird that they were the same hands that put people behind bars.

They broke apart moments later. "So the question now is," Mike said smiling at her, "Since I am on a temporary leave of absence, what do we do for the day?"

"How about going back to bed?" Max asked with a sensual tint in her eyes.

"Tempting," He said his smile widening, "But I just showered."

Max kissed him briefly. "So how about we shower then," She said in between kisses. She had already began unbuttoning her shirt. "I see some dirt that needs to get cleaned off."

"Now that I like," He said removing the towel.

* * *

Joe couldn't sleep anymore. It wasn't that he wasn't unable to. He was exhausted, but every time he slept, he had a different nightmare about either his group of followers or someone that he cared about killing him. Ryan was always there, smirk on his face, and telling the person he loved to kill him. Ryan, for some odd reason, never killed him.

When Ryan had the gun pointed at him right before he was arrested, he for a split second thought that he would actually shoot him. But Ryan lowered the gun and he knew that all the talk about killing him, was just that, all talk. If he had killed him, would it be over? Would Ryan feel peace at last? No in the least.

Murdering someone never justifies peace. Not in any rule book. The word murder just seemed so distasteful and messy. When he killed someone, it was more than just killing. He was ending a pointless existence and replacing it with something that actually had some importance. Plus, a piece of that person became a part of him. With every death he took part of, he felt a little more alive.

No one understood him. Not one person really did. People said they did. Like Emma. She loved Joe. Truly love him. She said she understand him and was totally devoted to him. For what reason other than that he saved her from the pits, he didn't know. She was so grateful that she became devoted to him right away. At first it made him feel uncomfortable. He wasn't used to it. But over time, he saw passed it and cared about her. He didn't love her the way she loved him. The only woman he ever truly loved was Claire and always would be.

Joe heard someone giggle like a school girl. He groaned and rubbed his temples. "Go to sleep Frank," He said loudly.

"I can't sleep now," Frank said clearly excited. "I am reading."

"What are you reading?" Joe asked not in the mood for the conversation.

"Your book," Frank simply said.

Joe sat up with another groan. He approached the prison gate and peered into Frank's dimly lit cell. "My book?" He asked now curious.

"Yes your book Joe," Frank said smiling. He licked his finger and then changed the page. "The Gothic Sea."

Joe was surprised. "They allow you to have that here?" He asked feeling a little proud that someone else was reading it.

"Of course," Frank said shifting in his spot. "In this hell hole, most items aren't allowed. Books however, that they allow here." He looked up from his book at Joe. "How much damage can a single book do?" He laughed at Joe.

Joe wanted to strange this guy. He was annoying all the time. Even when he slept. His snoring sounded like a jet flying overhead. It prevented him from getting any sleep at all. He could deal with the thin and dirty mattress, the almost nonexistent blanket, and the smelly pillow. But Frank's snoring was the tip of the iceberg.

"How are you enjoying the book?" Joe asked after a moment pause. He was using every ounce of his strength now to shout at this man and to control his nerves.

Frank cleared his throat loudly. "Good and bad no longer existed. It was all degrees of evil now. Gwendolyn held his dying body as the storm raged on. Death had finally arrived, and it was glorious to the touch," He stopped and looked at Joe again. "I would rather have a porno."

Joe made a fist and closed his eyes. He swallowed his emotions. When he reopened his eyes moments later, he felt a bit better. "I could understand how you would rather see the nakedness of a beautiful, yet fake women," He said slyly, "Then read the truthful and realistic words from a very famous and well written book."

"Do you have any magazines by you?" Frank asked closing the book. He squinted at Joe.

"Do you think I would stoop that low?" He asked surprised at the question. "Would I degrade myself in that kind of way?"

"Calm down Joe," Frank said raising his hand halting him. "I am just playing around." He reopened the book. "I actually am enjoying it." He cleared his throat loudly again. "I really relate to it."

"You do?" Joe asked not buying his sudden change of attitude. "How so?" Frank didn't seem to be intelligent enough to understand the messages of his book.

"I didn't grow up like normal kids," Frank said in a sad tone. "My mom died while giving birth to me. My dad, already a major drug addict, couldn't take it and broke. He committed suicide a week after I was born. I was adopted by my mom's sister, but she couldn't take me living there. I reminded her of her sister. So she gave me away and I lived from foster home to foster him until I was six."

"I am sorry," Joe said with little care. He had heard these pity stories before. Sadly there were many of them.

"Thanks," Frank said with a nod. "Anyways the family I was adopted by was okay. They treated me well, but I never felt part of their family. I was bullied in school for being an adopted boy. I dealt with that crap for years, until I met a certain boy whose older brother took pity on me. He invited me to come to his house and soon became part of his family."

"Well that is good," Joe said with a thin smile.

"Yeah," Frank agreed. "So I read your book, because I relate to it. I relate to Gwendolyn who swims out to the horizon almost as if searching for answers." He shrugged his shoulders. "I am also searching for answers."

"Aren't we all?" Joe agreed with him.

* * *

Carrie stared into her coffee with a faraway look. She continued to see the human brain and the handwritten note on the floor in her apartment. She didn't even realize that Ryan had called her name. "I'm sorry," She said looking up at him with a blush. "My mind is elsewhere."

"Yeah I can see that," He said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I thought that with Joe's arrest and Lily's death that it would all be over," Carrie emotionally said, "I thought that you and I would soon move out of New York and possibly move to the countryside."

"You know that would never happen," Ryan said. "I would never wear overalls and hold a pitchfork."

Carrie laughed loudly. "Amidst all this crap," She said taking his hand. She looked him in the eyes. "You know how to make a girl laugh."

"I try my best," Ryan said with a smile.

"So why do you think Molly resurfaced after all these years?" Carrie asked letting go of his hand. She took a sip of her coffee.

"I don't know," Ryan shrugged. "Joe's arrest caused a ripple of craziness though everyone that was involved in his cult. Molly got sick of hiding and decided that she would finish what he started."

"That makes sense," Carrie said.

"Also she remains one of Joe's most important and first members," Ran continued, "It makes sense that she would take his arrest so personally."

"Damn," Carrie shook her head, "I was thinking the same thing." She ran her hand through her hair. "But why do you think she sent me the brain and the adolescent note? Did she just want to rile me up?"

"That is exactly what she wanted to do," Ryan told her. He sipped his coffee. "She wants to be the one to kill me and Claire. That is her strongest desire. Whatever she does until she gets it, is just stepping stones."

Carrie bit her lower lip in fear. "What a dangerous world we live in," She quoted the famous line.

"Indeed," Ryan said with a small shrug, "But don't worry, she will resurface soon and we will get her and whatever sick group she is part of."

"I hope you are right," Carrie said looking at him worried. He didn't say anything, but she knew just by seeing his reaction, that he was thinking the same thing that she was.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed! Now that school is over I will update faster! Next chapter is gonna be one of action!

shaw18


	10. Drastic Measures 2

The Following:

Peace, Love, and Happiness

Episode 5- Drastic Measures

Jeffery wore a stern and determined look on his face as he entered the prison visitation area. Using his badge, he made his way to the front office and then waited impatiently standing beside an overly talkative guards. It would take a few minutes until Dr. Strauss would be available.

The guard was going on about his joband family. The young man only had good intentions and was thrilled to have the job, but he was truly annoying. It seemed as if he didn't need to breathe as well as his words merged together. Thankfully though, he was able to tune him out. It definitely wasn't the nicest thing to do, but it was the only way not to hear what the guy was talking about.

He thought back to the moment when was shot in the cabin. He, Desmond, and Cruz went into the cabin thinking that they would leave with Mark in handcuffs. But instead he nearly left in a body bag. Desmond though, wasn't so lucky. Now Cruz had become one of the most wanted men.

When he went home later that night, his wife asked about the bruises. He was going to lie, but since the incident was already on the news, he told her the truth. If it weren't for his vest, then he would have died. She tried to hide her fear for him, but he knew how she about his line of work. As respectable and important as it was, his life was constantly on the line. She prayed daily that he would return home safe and sound to his family at the end of every shift.

He told her that she shouldn't worry about him so much and that there were more important things to pay attention to, but he knew how silly that sounded. He was just trying to calm her nerves. Yet right after he was shot and he was laying there uncertain if he was dead or not, all he could think about was how he would never see his family again. He had completely forgotten that that he was wearing a vest the whole time.

"Agent Clark?" He heard a voice call out to him.

Jeffery looked to see a young officer approach. They shook hands, before she motioned for him to follow her. He followed her silently to the usual place where convicts were either questioned by law enforcers or lawyers. He was about to enter when the officer reached out to him. He looked at her confused.

"I heard about what happened back in the cabin," She said looking at him apologetically, "I am sorry."

"Thanks," He was confused.

"The cameras are off for this one," She said motioning with her head toward Dr. Strauss who was handcuffed to his chair. He was staring off into space with a faraway look.

"What are getting at?" He asked even though he knew what she was telling him. He wanted to hear her say it clearly, just so there would be no issues if the situation did arise.

"This guy is an asshole," She said emotionally, "My brother was murdered by Joe and his fanatics at the coffee shop incident a little bit ago," She glared at Dr. Strauss. "I want that son of a bitch to feel a fraction of the pain that my family has gone through."

"I'm so sorry," He said looking at her with care.

"Thanks," She said with a small shrug. "Well you have five minutes, that is all I can give you."

With that Jeffery turned and entered the room. Dr. Strauss looked up at him with a fake smile on his face. "Agent Clark, what a surprise," He said licking his dry lips. "You look well."

"Dr. Strauss," Jeffery mocked him. He took a seat across from him. "It seems prison has taken its toll on you."

Dr. Strauss gave him an odd look. "There is something different about you this time," He said leaning forward in his chair. He rested both arms on the table, just as far as the chains allowed him to go. "I can't exactly put my finger on it, but it seems as if you have a dark patch on your shoulder."

"I know you are aware of the few murders that have occurred all in the name of Joe," Jeffery began. He set the files of the victims and opened them up removing a picture of each one at the crime scene. "How many more protégés did you have beside Joe?"

Dr. Strauss began to chuckle. "I am locked up," He said shaking his head. "I don't know of any murders."

"I doubt that," He said looking at him seriously. "Now answer my question."

"You know I can give you fake names," Dr. Strauss said with a tantalizing grin, "And you won't know until you leave here today. Then you will come back asking me again and again I could give you more fake names." He raised his arms in a questioning way, before setting them down again. "It is a vicious cycle."

"You are testing my patience here," Jeffery said rubbing his temples. "Answer my question."

"What are you going to do?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "If you do, my lawyer will hear of it."

The image of Desmond dead on the floor in the cabin came to his mind. His wide eyed look of shock with a bullet wound in the head was engraved in his mind. Next he saw the funeral where he was watching Desmond's mourning family throughout the priest's entire eulogy.

"Screw your lawyer," He mumbled fed up.

"What?"

Jeffery ignored the question. He suddenly saw red and grabbed Dr. Strauss by the index finger. He bent it back until a loud crack was heard. Dr. Strauss cried out loudly in pain and then soon began to laugh crazily. He then grabbed the middle finger and did the same thing.

"Stop these games," Jeffery ordered. "Or I will break all your fingers and you won't be able to even wipe your own sorry ass."

"I want my lawyer," Dr. Strauss said. He was breathing heavily. "Get me my lawyer."

"Your lawyer doesn't want anything to do with you," Jeffery lied. He hoped to stir him up. "He just wants you to rot in prison, which you are already doing."

Dr. Strauss began to openly laugh at him. "You have changed," He said tsking him as he wagged his finger in a taunting manner. "I now can see it in your eyes." He placed his aching hands on his lap. "How does it feel? That tingle of excitement as you take control of the situation by lashing out and accepting your anger."

"Two fingers down," Jeffery pointed out, "Eight more to go and I may even take a toe or two."

"Now that is more like it," Dr. Strauss said with a smile. "Give in to the anger."

Jeffery looked at his watch. He didn't have much time left. "So what can you tell me about your other protégés?" He asked closing his folders.

"Joe was my only student," He answered with a pained smile.

"You are lying," Jeffery said leaning forward in his chair. He stared at him coldly trying to get under his skin.

"Maybe I am and maybe I am not," He said with a laugh. He shrugged his shoulders playfully. "You never know."

Jeffery cursed and stood up shoving the chair backward. It fell over with a loud clang. He quickly approached a surprised Strauss and decked him in the face as hard as he could. Strauss laughed loudly and then spit out blood on to the table. Jeffery punched him again, this time in the eye.

"Man you got some strength in you," Dr. Strauss said continuing to laugh.

At that moment the door opened and in walked the young guard. "Time's up," She said looking at Jeffery who was standing a few feet away breathing heavily.

"Too bad," Dr. Strauss said with another shrug. "Now I can't tell you what I have in this brain here." He tapped his head playfully. "Time's up."

Jeffery relaxed his fist and was surprised when the young guard socked him in the face, breaking his nose. "That was for my brother dammit," She cursed him.

With that, she motioned for other guards to take him back to the cell. Before he left, he made kissing sounds to the young guard. She turned away from him. "Did you get anything?" She asked after he left.

"Nothing at all," Jeffery said with a sigh. He massaged his sore wrist. "Just a bunch of gibberish."

* * *

Scott Thompson turned on the sink water and began to wash his face. He dried it with a hand towel and then neatly hung it on the wall to dry. He turned off the light and then made his way to the kitchen, where his wife was busy making lunch. She was humming a tune to go along with an infomercial on the TV.

"Smells delicious," He said taking a diet coke from the fridge. "What is on the menu for today?"

Carla looked at her husband and smiled. "Penne vodka and garlic bread," She said kissing him on lips briefly. "You smell good." She notice his knew aftershave.

"Smooth as a baby's bottom," He said running a finger along his freshly shaved face.

"You look better without any facial hair," She said turning back to the sauce. She stirred it so it wouldn't burn. "I hate the sandpaper feel."

"Same here," Scott said opening the can. He sipped it watching his wife cook. "If I had the time, I would shave every other day as opposed to almost twice a week."

"You do have the tame baby. It is just you are damned lazy," She looked at him and winked playfully.

The sports segment of the news came and the topic was of Tony Gwynn's passing. He was fifty-four years old and died of cancer. They spoke about his history of the game, how he loved it, and everyone loved him, whether family, teammate or just a fan.

"Class act," Scott said shaking his head. "The baseball world has lost a hero today."

"Did you ever see him play?" Carla asked looking at the TV for a few moments.

"Yeah I did," Scott said taking a seat at the kitchen table. He turned up the volume of the TV that was hung on the wall. "Back in 1998 when the Yankees and the Padres were playing against each other in the World Series."

"Oh right," She said, "I remember how excited you were about going to the game."

"Of course I would be," Scott said his eyes glued to the TV. They were showing some highlights of his prestigious career. "It is the World Series."

"You and your sports," Carla rolled her eyes.

At that moment, Scott saw two figures slowly moving around outside. They were peering at his house as if studying it intently. Both of them read bad news immediately. Upon closer inspection, he saw one of them was a male, and another a female. They began to approach the house and one of them pulled out a gun.

"Carla," Scott said standing up slowly. He kept his eyes on the two of them outside. "We have company."

"We do? I wasn't expecting anyone?" She asked looking outside.

"It is not of the friendly sort," He said reaching underneath the table to grab a gun he had hidden there. He cocked it and then looked at his wife. "Go hide."

Carla, without a second thought, turned off the stove and oven and then ran to the bedroom. She made her way into the bathroom and closed the door. She locked it and then sat in the bathtub with a ball of fear growing in her stomach.

Scott looked back outside and didn't see any of them. He cursed and held his gun ready as he slowly and cunningly made his way to the front of the house. He approached the front window and peered outside, but didn't see anything. There was no one outside, except for a stray dog sniffing a plant across the street. As if it could sense Scott, the dog looked at him for a few seconds, before deciding the outside was more important. It trotted away looking for more adventures.

Scott stepped away from the window and was suddenly greeted with a swift kick in the gut. He dropped his gun and fell to the floor. Another kick came at his head, but he grabbed the foot and flipped the unknown assailant over. He heard a thud and saw it was the female who first pulled out her gun. She looked at him with a glare as he reached for his gun.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the man that came with the woman. He had a gun pointed at him. "Drop your weapon," The man snarled. He took a dangerous step toward Scott.

Scott hesitated for a moment, before he tossed the gun on the floor.

"Good job. So the FBI aren't dumb asses after all," The man said with a laugh. "Now kick it aside." He took another step toward him and motioned with his gun.

Scott kicked it aside. "What do you want?" He asked trying to suppress his anger and anxiety.

"You," The woman simply said. She took his gun and then pointed it at him. "Imagine me shooting you with your own gun. How poetically perfect that sounds." She chuckled and then looked at the man. "Tim go and see if there is someone else here. I can deal with this here."

"Are you sure?" He asked looking at Annabelle confused.

"Just go," She ordered keeping her eyes on Scott.

"What do you guys want?" Scott asked worried that Tim would find his wife in the bathroom.

"We need your help," She said with a smile before taking a threatening step toward him. "Now until my friend comes back here, I need you to go there and sit." She motioned for him to the couch by the TV and electric fireplace.

Scott held back a smile. He had another gun hidden there below the couch. All he needed to do was reach it and then shoot her before he went for Tim. He sat down while keeping an eye on her. She kept a strong and confident composure as she waited for her friend to return. But he was taking too long. She looked at the clock on the wall, knowing that they were here far longer than they wanted.

Scott took this as cue and reached for the gun. He knew it was loaded as he pointed it at her. His sudden movement caused her to shout at him and fire. She missed, striking the TV cracking the screen. He fired at her, striking her in the shoulder. She went down moaning. He approached her and grabbed his gun as well as her other gun. "I will be back for you," He said debating if he should handcuff her or not. He was taking a gamble, but his wife was more important.

Scott made his way his bedroom and as soon as he passed the kitchen, he saw Tim running downstairs eagerly. He saw Scott and shot at him. He missed Scott, the bullet imbedding itself in the wall. Scott aimed and shot him, catching him in the stomach. Tim cried out and collapsed. He fell down the rest of the stairs striking his head roughly in the process.

Scott stepped up to him and saw blood oozing out of the bullet wound and a thin stream of blood leaking out of his head wound. He knew that this man would not be going anywhere any time soon. He returned to the living room to see his door wide open and Annabelle driving off. He cursed and ran outside. He aimed at the tires, but didn't have a shot. He was able to make out half the license plate.

_CRZYB... _

He made his way back into his house and handcuffed Tim to the stairs banister. He made sure it was locked before he made his way to the bedroom. He knocked on his bathroom door and called out to his wife, telling her it was safe to come out. She opened the door and then leaped into his arms, hugging him tightly. She kissed him deeply, glad that he was not hurt.

"Who were they?" She asked after they broke apart.

"I don't know," He said shaking his head. "Bad news is all I could tell you." He let go of her and then called for backup. After the call he turned to his wife and said, "I suggest you go stay by your sister's for a while. At least until this blows over."

"And what will you be doing?" She asked knowing that he was right. It was safer for her there.

"I have work to do," He said with a stern and determined look.

* * *

Simon and Garfunkel's song Sound of Silence played in the background, as molly sipped from a large glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. Her eyes were shut and she was deep in thought, almost as if in a hypnotic state. With every sip, she tried to enjoy it as much as she could.

She thought about what her plans for Ryan would be. Yes, she still wanted him dead and she wanted to be the one to do it. But to just go to New York and kill him, that would be too quick and easy. She wanted his death to mean something. She wanted him to feel the pain of death. But how would she do it?

She could kill off the rest of his family. From what she knew about him, there was his sister Jennifer and his niece Max. Jennifer was living somewhere in Colorado at the moment and would be easier to get to than Max who was living in New York. Jennifer was not nearly as trained as Max, so that was definitely an edge. If she got a hold of Jennifer then it would give her the edge she wanted. If not, then there was always Max.

She first met Joe at a college convention. It was his second year teaching and she was going through a rough patch in her life at the moment. With her bills adding up, she was wondering if the medical field was the right decision. Was she nurse material? Would all her hard work really help her fulfil one of her life long dreams or was she making a big mistake?

Joe listened as she poured out her soul to him. He seemed truly interested with what she was saying and it surprised her. Even her boyfriend at the time didn't do that. He would listen to her, but didn't seem as interested in what she had to say as much as Joe did. When she finished talking, Joe told her to continue with her education.

"_Nothing is more important than following your dreams. If you don't, you will forever live with regret. Your struggles and doubts now will dig into you like thorns. But once the thorns pass, you will reach the stem that leads to the beauty of the rose."_

Joe's words comforted her more then she realized. She took his words to heart and continued schooling. When she graduated, he went to the ceremony. Out of thanks, she invited him back to her place, but he told her that he was married.

They kept in touch throughout the years, giving each other advice. Joe then published his book, but the critics considered it as a flop. With its failure, he went crazy and began murdering young women that resembled the female protagonist in his book. She knew of the murders all along and kept her mouth shut. She owed him that much.

Molly heard a knock on the door. She opened her eyes annoyed not wanting to be disturbed. She wanted peace and quiet. "Come in," She said after a second knock.

The door opened up and in walked Tyler with a stern look on his face. "We need to talk," He said stepping up to her.

Molly sighed and stood up. "What is it?" She asked pretending to show interest.

"If I may be frank," He began, "You are becoming reckless. You are letting your emotional connection with Ryan to cloud your motives."

"I know exactly what I am doing here," She narrowed her eyes at him. "I have a set plan and am executing it exactly." She stepped up to him. "You have nothing to worry."

"For some reason I don't feel comforted by that," He said confidently.

Molly set her glass of wine on the glass table by the couch. "I'm sorry you feel that way," Molly said not meaning it. "But I am in charge of this."

Tyler ran a hand through his dirty blond hair. He turned away from her and began to pace. "I don't like what is going on here," He said looking at her with uncertainty. "And I feel you are being reckless."

"You don't get to talk to me like that," Molly threatened him.

"I care about you Molly," He said stepping up to her. He reached out to her, but she backed away from him.

Molly knew this would happen. They slept with each other a few times and he became attached. He was interested in her and she was not with him. She was able to see how much he liked her from the first time they hooked up. She just needed one night to release some stress.

"I'm flattered," Molly said frowning at him. "But you still don't get to talk to me that way." She took a step toward him. "I want Ryan dead. I want him to feel pain."

"So then why don't we just go and kill him?" He suggested, "The quicker we get it done, the quicker we put all this behind us."

"No, I don't want to do that," She shook her head. "That would be too easy, too meaningless." She took another step toward him. "I failed in killing Ryan the first time. I don't want to fail again."

"That is why I am suggesting that the both of us go there now and just kill him," He snapped fingers. "We could leave now."

Molly made a fist annoyed. She closed her eyes for a few seconds trying to control her emotions. She reopened them. "Why can't you just understand that I have a plan for Ryan," She said dangerously.

"Because your plan doesn't make sense," He said raising his voice a bit. "With neither Ryan or Claire dead and now Joe in prison, you have become more reckless with every passing day. That note you sent to Carrie was careless and could lead the FBI to our doorstep. Do you want that?"

Molly swiftly removed her pocket knife and flicked it open. She stabbed him in the stomach. "You don't get to make decisions here," She said ignoring his cry. She stabbed him again. "I don't care if we slept together and that you cared for me." She stabbed him again. "Plus you were not good in bed at all."

Tyler had a shocked look on his face as he collapsed on the floor. He reached out to her with a bloody and trembling hand, but she just pushed him aside. She stepped away from him and then looked at the blood on her clothes. "Damn," She said unhappily. "I liked this shirt."

* * *

Amable was about to pour himself a glass of scotch when there was a knock on his office door. He closed the bottle and then opened the door to see Annabelle standing there anxiously and covered in blood. He grew concerned immediately. "What happened?" He asked fearing the worst.

"I'm so sorry," She said her lip trembling.

"What happened?" He asked again knowing that the plan had failed.

"Tim and I went to go get Scott as planned, but he fought back and in the process Tim was shot," She said her voice on the verge of tears. "I failed."

"Shhh," Amable said giving her a hug. He didn't care that his shirt would become stained as well. "Those types of things happen. It isn't that big of a deal."

"But Tim is dead," She said sadly. A tear trailed down her cheek.

"I know and it is terrible," He said emotionally, "But we must move on." He cupped her chin. "Where is he now?"

"I was forced to leave him by the FBI's house," She said bitterly. "I'm sorry. I was scared and didn't want to die."

"It's okay," He said calmly. "You did the right thing back there. You did what you needed to do to survive."

Annabelle looked up at him confused.

"I am not saying that his death is nothing," He said teary eyed. "We lost a family member today and it is big. But he would not want us to sit here wallowing sadly while there is still so much work to do." He looked down at her wound. "Come on my dear, let me clean you up."

Annabelle was still confused with him. She was surprised that he didn't lash out at her. Tell her that she was a failure and never allow her on another mission. For a split second she even expected him to take her to the basement and kill her for failing. But she knew that wouldn't happen. It would be too extreme.

She removed her shirt wincing in pain as he grabbed the first aid kit. He told her to sit down on a chair as he put on reading glasses. "It's not that bad," He said as he inspected the wound. "It is just a flesh wound. The bullet went right through."

"Hurts like hell," She grumbled.

"Of course it does silly," He said cracking a small smile. He made his way to the sink and wet a wash cloth. "You got shot."

Amable began to clean the dry blood around the wound. The sudden pressure made her gasp and tense up. More blood began to trickle down her shoulder. When he was finished, he put the wash cloth in the garbage and then grabbed some antiseptic spray.

"Now this is going to hurt," He warned her. He began to spray all over the wounds.

"Son of a bitch," She cried out not expecting that much pain.

Amable wiped the extra antiseptic off her skin gently and then reached for a large bandage. He applied Neosporin cream as well. He applied two on either side of the shoulder. "Now I recommend you rest up and no sudden movement while your wound heals," He said with a loving smile. "Plus I want to clean and change your bandages daily."

"Thanks Papa," She said smiling at him. "I love you."

"I love you to my dear," He said kissing her on the forehead.

Amable watched Annabelle stand up and leave his office. He cleaned everything up and then put away the first aid kit in the office. He washed and dried his hands. "Time for a drink," He said returning to the bar.

He poured himself a double shot and drank it down as the fury inside him began to grow. He poured himself a second shot and then drank it down again. He felt the alcohol warming himself as it spread through his body. A blanket of numbness that did nothing to stop his anger, except amplify it. He wanted blood to be drawn. He wanted revenge and he would do whatever it takes to get it. No one messes his with his family. No one.

He poured himself a third shot. He raised the glass. "Agent Scott," He said as he eyed a picture of Tim he had on the wall above the bar. "I am going to bleed you dry." He downed the shot. "No one touches my family." He said angrily.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed! More to come!

shaw18


	11. Loyalty

The Following:

Peace, Love, and Happiness

Episode 6 – Loyalty

Isiah stepped out of the bus and looked at Penn Station. He cleared his throat and stepped inside. He scanned the small stores that surrounded him. He took note of a Starbucks and decided to buy a coffee. He waited in line for a few minutes, before he ordered a hazelnut coffee. Once he received the coffee, he stepped away watching the crowd before him make their way to and from trains and busses.

He sipped his coffee and then pulled out his phone checking the time. It was five minutes until three. Almost time. He continued to sip his coffee counting down the minutes anxiously. When the clock struck three, he tossed the nearly empty coffee in the waist bin and then cleared his throat.

"Peoples," He said in a loud voice. "I have important news for you." He paused for few seconds watching the crowd continuing to hustle around in front of him. Only a few people slowed down to glance at him, but no one stopped to listen.

Isiah cleared his voice again. "Is there anyone here religious?" He continued to rant. "Do you let religion control every move you make, almost like strings on a puppet? Allow them to pull and tug you in whatever direction that pleases whatever God you follow? They say religion makes you feel free, but I disagree with that and I will prove it to you."

"Go home you bum," He heard someone call out to him.

He looked for whoever just spoke to him, but he couldn't find the person. All he saw was the crowd continuing to briskly walk around deep in their own thoughts. He shrugged his shoulders and then decided to continue. He had something to say and would not stop until he said what he came here to say.

"In Hebrews 11:1 it is that 'Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.' Come one people," He licked his lips. "We are physical beings here. Beings with many different types of emotions. Beings that often need to touch something to know that it is there, well how could we have faith in something that tells us to have faith in the invisible? It doesn't make sense."

He licked his lips again.

"And in 1 Timothy 4:10 it is said that, 'For therefore we both labor and suffer reproach, because we trust in the living God, who is the Savior of all men, specially of those that believe.' Oh please peoples." He paused and raised his voice louder. He took notice of two teens recording him. They had smiles on their faces as if mocking him. He ignored them and continued. "We should put faith in a God that puts his creation. His children. He own self, in such agonizing pain and sorrow. It is time to make a stand. Make a stand against religion."

More people had stopped and were recording him, taking pictures, or just listening to what he was saying. It made him feel accomplished. He wanted people to hear his words and it didn't matter how they did it. As long as his message came across.

"And in 1 Peters 1:7 it is said, 'That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perishes, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honor and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ." He cleared his throat again. "They tell us that we will feel rich through faith of religion. I dare say that is absurd. Not when it comes to a world run by the greed of the man. Where the more money you have, the more power you have. It sickens me and it has got to stop. It is time to put the break on religion. May religion be damned."

Isiah stopped when he saw two police officers approach him. "Okay sir," The leading officer said reaching out to him. "I think you have said enough, it is time to move on."

Without a blink of an eye, Isiah pulled out a handgun and shot both of the cops. Screams erupted from scared people as they ran away from him like frightened fish. People were tripping over each other and pushing as they tried to escape. He smiled even two brave men tried to wrestle the gun away from him. He allowed them to. It was not important to him anymore.

He reached into his sleeve and pulled a small remote that was attached to a wire. That wire led to a large amount of dynamite strapped around a waist. "It is time to take a stand," He shouted as he pressed the trigger button.

* * *

Mark was staring out his bedroom window into the darkened backyard with harsh and faraway look. It was raining heavily, which was mixed with an occasional thunder and lightning. He watched the rain wet the grass. Trees swayed in the distance from the heavy winds. The weather was awful, yet strangely hypnotic.

His thoughts were of his mother and Luke. He missed them more than anything in the world and would do anything to get them back. The two most important people in his life were gone and he felt more than empty. When they were alive, he felt like a completed puzzle, but ever since their death, a few pieces from that puzzle was gone.

Now he was with people who claimed to be his other family. They were nice, accepting, and curiously mysterious. Just like Luke had mentioned in the mirror, he didn't trust them one bit. He only trusted his mom and brother with his life. He knew that if they were both alive, that he would do whatever it took to keep each other safe. Even kill in the process. Now that they were both dead, he would have to settle for revenge.

But how would he do that? The people here claimed to be his family and wanted the best for him, but he didn't think they would allow him to leave. Not after they risked their lives to bring him here. He was thankful that they saved him from the hands of the FBI. The last thing he wanted was to be arrested.

He just didn't want to sit around him much longer. He was getting beyond anxious. If he spoke to Amable, would he allow him to leave? Probably not. If by some miracle he said yes, he would send someone to help him, or in his own eyes, keep his eyes on him. Even though he was family, he was still s stranger to these people just like these people were strangers to him.

Out of all the family here, he had only spoken to a few people. Amable, or his father, seemed like a loving person, who wanted the best for everyone here. Yet there was something about him he didn't like. He seemed to be too relaxed. Too carefree. Cruz, reminded him of someone who pretended he was tough until the big situation came. Then he would fold under the pressure. Annabelle was cute, flirty, and had pretty eyes. She had soft skin and an infectious giggle. He had spoken to her on the way to dinner the other night and even with his doubts, he found himself kind of liking her. She reminded him of Emma.

His thoughts drifted toward Emma. He liked her a lot and was still sad about her death. Even if they had hardly spent any time together. She was strong, brave, smart, and extremely beautiful. Yet she was killed, before he had the time to tell her how he felt about her.

He wanted to kill Claire for killing her. Kill Max for killing Luke. Kill Mike for killing his mother. Finally, kill Ryan because he seemed to be at the center of everything. In order to make him feel as hurt and lost as he was feeling now, he would kill those he cared about most. He wanted Ryan to come to him. Just like last time. If he could get Joe to join, that would be the perfect bittersweet ending. But that was unlikely, since he was in prison and he didn't have the resources to break Joe out. He would have to settle for Ryan alone.

Mark heard a knock on the door. He turned away from the window and opened his door. He saw Annabelle standing outside with a small smile on her face. "Hey," He said wondering why she was here at this hour. He noticed her arm in a sling. "What happened?"

"Guess it is pretty noticeable," She said glancing at her arm. "Small car accident," She shrugged with her good shoulder. "Thankfully the car and I came out alive."

"Well I am glad you are okay," Mark simply said. He eyed her eyed with adolescent curiosity.

"So are you going to allow me in?" She asked with a slight tease.

Mark stepped away from his door allowing her to step inside. "What can I do for you?" He asked watching her look around his room.

"I couldn't sleep," She said with another shrug. "The storm was keeping me up." She looked at him. "How about you, why are you up this late?"

"I couldn't sleep either," He said with a frown.

Mark glanced out the window again, watching the rain again. It was peaceful. The rain always was. He hated to walk through it, but he enjoyed watching from inside. He also enjoyed the snow. Watching snow fall from inside was always relaxing. He didn't really mind walking through the snow. Rainfall you got wet in, while snowfall seemed to just pile on you.

"Welcome to the club," She said with a small smile. She patted the spot beside her on the bed. "Come and join me."

Mark gave her an uncertain look. He didn't trust her and didn't feel comfortable sitting next to her. He stood there wondering whether he should sit beside her or not. She seemed nice and inviting, but he couldn't ignore his brother's words.

"I don't bite," She said with a playful wink.

Mark found her smile a little comforting. He ignored his eternal protest and sat next to her. She scooted closer to him and then said, "Not unless you want me to," She said with a laugh, "I can bite, nibble, or chew."

"Thanks," He said hesitantly, "But I'll pass." For a few seconds there was awkward silence. "So what can I do for you?" He asked after the moment pause.

"Since I couldn't sleep, I wanted to see how you were doing," She said looking at him. "You were awfully quiet during dinner."

"Guess I was hungrier than I thought," He said with a small shrug.

"What do you think of us?" She asked hoping that he felt comfortable here.

Mark shrugged his shoulders and didn't respond right away. He noticed her staring at him and it made him feel uneasy. He scooted over again hoping that she didn't move closer to him. She didn't budge, much to his relief.

"I don't know," He shrugged his shoulders again. "I haven't been here for too long."

Annabelle found herself chuckling. He was so quiet and awkward now yet cute at the same time. Outside of the news reports and what her father spoke about him, she hardly knew him. Yet she wanted to kiss him now. He was beyond cute and had such beautiful eyes. They held such life to them as well as deep pain. They held so much emotion.

"I think you will enjoy living here," She said with a smile. She reached out and touched his hand. "We are a close and loving family."

"Yeah I can see that," He said eyeing her hand on his. It sent shivers up and down his spine. He stood up and stepped away from the bed. "So what do you do exactly?"

"What do you mean?" She asked watching him.

"I mean what do you do?" He asked crossing his arms over his chest. "Are you in school or something?"

"Oh yeah. I am in school," She said holding back what she really does. "I am majoring in art." She looked at her injured arm. "Guess I won't be doing any art for quite some time now."

Mark thought of his mother and her artwork. Whenever she wasn't working or at the art museum, she would paint. He and his brother always loved watching her in her studio. Most of the time she allowed only them, but on the condition that they were quiet. Even with his other family members around, he felt that their mother loved the both of them the most.

"My mom loved art," Mark simply said. He looked outside again, watching the rain. It had slowed down a bit.

"Yeah I know," She said with a smile.

"What do you know about my mom?" He asked turning back to her. He looked at her suspiciously.

"Not too much," She said with a small shrug. "Dad speaks about her from time to time and of course whatever was on the news."

"I see," He said taking a step away from her. "I guess you must think of us as crazy."

"We are all crazy," She said standing up. "That is what makes us such a unique family." She smiled at him.

An image of her cutting the agent in the basement came to her mind. As she cut him, she felt powerful, in charge, and very dangerous. She wanted to feel that way again. To feel that tingle again. To feel the blood pumping through her again.

"I guess so," He said watching her unsure what she was doing.

She took another step toward him. "Yet with all our craziness here, we look out for each other," She said proudly.

"Is that why I am here?" He asked.

"Of course silly," She said shaking her head. She chuckled softly. He was so cute, even when playing dumb. "You are part of this family."

"I see," He said not fully buying it. Something was strange here. Everyone here seemed to inviting. Too nice.

"I know the thought of us may be a little overwhelming at times," She said taking another step toward him. She was now a foot away. "But soon you will fit right in and will be calling us family."

"Hopefully," He simply said not meaning in.

Annabelle leaned close to kiss him. She saw him tense up. She stopped and stepped away from him. He seemed to be trembling slightly and looking more nervous than usual. She wondered what was wrong with him. She knew he found her attractive. She caught him glancing at her a few times since he came here.

"You know what," She said running a hand through her hair. She gave him an awkward smile. "It is late and I think storm has died down." She turned to leave. "Have a good night and see you at breakfast." Before she left, she gave him a big smile.

Annabelle closed the door behind her and her smile faded. She grew serious and then made her way to her father's study. She saw the door was open. Amable was sitting by the fire place reading Misery, by Stephen King. He looked up from the book and smiled at her.

"How is our new family member doing?" He asked closing his book.

"There is something up with him, that I can't quite put my finger on," She said stepping up to him. She watched him stand up and grab a drink from the bar.

"That was too be expected," Amable said pouring himself a drink. "He just lost his brother. He is going through some tough times."

"And I will be there to help him out," She said watching him take a sip.

"Good, I knew I can count on you," He said pleased with her. He turned toward her. "I know that you will get him to trust us."

"Hopefully," She said with a small shrug.

"To our family," Amable said raising his glass. "May nothing ever break us apart." He downed the shot and then set it by the bar. "Get some sleep my dear, we will talk some in the morning."

Annabelle stepped up to him and gave him a hug. "Goodnight papa," She said kissing him on the cheek. She turned and left his study.

Not even a minute after she left, Cruz and Michael stepped in. "We are ready," Cruz said with an anxious smile.

"Good," Amable said pouring three shots. He handed one to Cruz, one to Michael, and took the last for himself. He raised the glass. "To the success of getting the bitch of an agent." He downed the shot and then gave his two sons a warm and loving smile. "The first time didn't work out, but I know that the both of you won't disappoint me."

* * *

Ryan stepped out of his car and viewed the horrific scene before him grimly. A large crowd surrounded the yellow caution tape. Most had their phones out and were recording the scene before them. Others were taking pictures, while a few stood by just watching.

Ryan squeezed through the crowd and then crossed the caution tape. He sighed loudly as he stepped into the broken Penn Station. The front entrance had completely crumbled and most of the stores in the lobby were destroyed. Lots of blood was splattered on the floor, walls, and ceiling. A dozen mangled bodies were scattered around randomly.

Jeffery saw Ryan and approached him. "Crazy isn't it?" He smugly asked as he eyed the body closest to him.

The body belonged to a young female around fifteen years old. She was covered in her own blood. Her left leg was blown off and was a few feet away in a puddle of blood. Her face was cut up and burned. Part of her head had melted on to the floor.

"That's one way to put it," Ryan said eyeing the girl's leg. He cleared his throat loudly. "

"So what have you got?"

"Not much at all actually," Jeffery shook his head. "This place is such a mess, it is going to take some time just to clean it up."

Ryan saw groups of forensic teams cleaning up the area while others were taking pictures and notes. Everyone had serious and melancholy looks on their faces. The extent of the damage to the station made it more than personal. When dealing with their work, it didn't matter whether it was one body or many. Death was death and it was never a good if a forensic team was needed to be there.

"What about video surveillance?" Ryan asked looking back at Jeffery.

"I actually have Max working on that now," He said motioning for him to follow. "She is in the manager's office now."

"Good," He mumbled following him to the office. He took one last glance at the morbid scene, before entering the office.

Ryan saw his niece sitting in front of a computer that was hooked up to ten different screens displaying multiple shot of the lobby. She glanced at him and smiled grimly as he approached. She returned to the screens and then sighed as she ran a hand through her hair.

"Max," Ryan asked as he approached her spot. "What have you got for us?"

"Video surveillance picked up everything," She said rewinding it to the point moments before the explosion. "You see this man entering the lobby?" She asked pointing toward him. Screen 1 showed the closest image of the man. "This is him."

Ryan saw a man enter the lobby. He saw him scan it, before buying a coffee. He sipped the coffee for a few moments, watching the crowd, almost as if studying them. After a few moments, he began to recite verses from the Bible, before blowing himself up. Half the TV screens went blank and others grew half static with poor picture quality. Just one screen remained clear.

The screen displayed massive destruction and gore from a horror movie. Smoke and fire filled the entire lobby. Blood and guts was splattered on the floor, ceiling, walls. Random body parts were flung around aimlessly. A handful of bodies were on the floor covered in blood and a few were still smoldering.

Max looked away from the screen in disgust. She couldn't watch another moment of it. She eyed Ryan who had a stern and horrified look on his face. Jeffery stood a few feet away with a furious look fixed on his face.

"Damn," Jeffery cursed when the video ended.

"That is one way to put it," Ryan said grimly. He sighed and ran a hand through his slightly graying hair.

"That is all I can get here," Max said with a small shrug.

"Get a copy of all the video surveillance and we'll have it brought to headquarters," Jeffery ordered. "We will be able to study it at more in detail over there." With that he turned and left the room.

Ryan watched him leave before turning back to his niece. "Are you okay?" She asked when she noticed him watching her.

"I'm alright," He said with a small shrug, "Could be better, could be worse," He took a step toward her. "How about you?"

Max turned back to the computer. She ejected the CD and then placed it in a hard case for protection. "I'm okay," She said with a sigh. "Definitely have had better days."

"I agree," Ryan said watching her as they left the office.

* * *

Amable entered the last room in the basement and then approached the bed that now had Agent Bob Lackett on it. Bob grunted trying to break through the restraints as Amable approached. He eyed him and then stopped, knowing that there was nothing he could do. The restraints were too strong.

"Oh please don't stop on my account," Amable said with a playful smile, "I enjoy watching you try and fail."

"What do you want?" He asked.

"So the fun and games are over?" Amable shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it is time for the big show." He took a step toward him. "You are here for one reason and one only. I need everything you know about Claire Mathews."

"What do you want with her?" Bob asked with a nervous laugh.

Amable punched Bob in the face. Bob groaned feeling his head knock back from the force of the punch. He felt his face grow numb and tingly.

"Just tell me everything you know about her," Amable insisted.

"Well she was married to Joe Carroll before he went to prison. She is known to have had an affair with ex-FBI Ryan Hardy," Bob began.

Amable groaned and punched him again. "Do you think this is a joke?" He asked massaging his sore wrist.

"Do you really expect me to tell you anything?" Bob asked looking at Amable as if he were delusional.

"I actually don't," He said with a twisted smile. "Not in the beginning at least," He approached the table with an assortment of tools meant for torture. He grabbed a hammer and then turned to Bob, who was watching him with horrified curiosity. "Tell me something, do you an Agent Giles?" He asked in a tantalized way.

"Yeah I do," He answered confused, "But why do you ask?"

"I saw a news press stating that he was missing," Amable continued as he played with the hammer in his hands. "I was wondering how well you knew him."

"I knew him pretty well actually," He was still confused. "But what does that have to do with me?"

"Well if you don't tell me what I want to know about Claire," Amable took a threatening step toward him. I will make you bleed," He paused and leaned over the bed with a certain ravenousness twinkling in his eyes. "In the same bed that Giles bled to death in."

* * *

Mark took a drink of orange juice as he watched Carrie report on the bombing at Penn Station. He saw shaky video footage from outside of the half destroyed station. So far there were fifteen deaths, forty injuries and a handful of those life threatening. The number of deaths would definitely go up as time passed.

He was so engrossed in what he was watching, he didn't notice Annabelle approach him from behind. "Hey there," She said causing him to jump slightly.

"Hey," He said glancing at her briefly before returning to the TV. He took a sip of his orange juice.

"Pretty crazy huh?" She asked looking at the screen with a fixed fascination.

"Indeed," He simply said.

"It is so crazy how in one second everyone's life over there changed," She said changing her expression to that of horror when she saw him looking at her. "One second they are busy making their way to wherever they were going and then next, boom, everything changes drastically."

"Crazy does explain it well," He said with a small shrug.

Annabelle studied him wondering what he was thinking about. He was the type that on the surface, he could give the look that he was normal and at ease, yet his mind full of thoughts that were far from normal. He seemed to be able to control his emotions pretty well.

"What do you think of death?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Death?" He asked confused. He turned toward her, yet gave him enough space, that she wouldn't get too close.

"Yes death," She said pointing to the TV screen that was showing helicopter footage of a smoky Penn Station. "What is your view on it?"

"I don't know," He shrugged not really wanting to divulge in it. It made him think of his mother and brother, as well as the other members of his family he had lost recently. "I don't really think about it."

"Really?' She asked not buying his answer one bit. He was lying to her and even though it bothered her, she chose to shrug it off. "Well I find death quite interesting."

"You do?" Mark asked giving her a confused and unsure look.

Annabelle thought of her killing Agent Giles and how much she enjoyed doing it. She liked the feeling of the power and the control as she drained his life. She liked watching as he bled out, his last few breaths, his eyes closing, and then his body growing limp. She liked every moment of it.

Mark took a step back watching as a smile appeared on her face. She blinked coming back to reality. She noticed him watching her confused. "I read about it," She said with fake innocence, "And surf the web every so often, but nothing really more. Death is a mystery to me I guess."

Mark swallowed with uncertainty not sure what to say to it. Instead he held his tongue and drank the rest of the orange juice.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed! I have got more coming soon!

Shaw 18


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